Somebody to Share it with
by Strain of the Stress
Summary: Wes Ryder has some doubts in a new galaxy as a new pathfinder. Vetra and Male Pathfinder Romance... eventually
1. Pathfinder Found

Tempest, 2100 Hours

"Pathfinder?"

The request came quietly but confidently from the door, filling the room which had previously heard only the white noise of FTL Travel. Wes kept the door open when he was working, thought it promoted "A truly open door policy" as one of his old CO's once said.

The newly minted pathfinder was sitting at his desk, skimming through pages of a manual he never thought he'd have to read: "Andromeda Initiative Publication 06P1: Pathfinder's Duties and Responsibilities". The manual closed automatically as Ryder pushed his chair back, seeing Vetra standing in the door, her head turned slightly as she looked around for him.

"Vetra, what's up?"

Vetra looked his way, the Turian's visor flickering momentarily as he could see it bring up info on him, what looked like a small picture and block of text scrolling beside her eye.

"Wanted to get some requisitions past your desk. Normally I don't bother you about these things, but it's weapons and ammo, figure you'd wanna take a look at that."

Wes laughed as he stood up, turning to pick up his omnipresent coffee mug before gesturing at the couch, Vetra nodding thanks before taking a seat.

"We just left the Nexus, haven't even seen Eos yet, and you're already buying guns and ammo?"

"What can I say? My job is to keep us ready for everything, including when things go south."

"Well, after Habitat 7, I think that's much appreciated."

Vetra handed Ryder the datapad, sitting back and crossing her legs while Wes picked it up, setting it to automatic scroll as he read and sipped his coffee. Silence passed between them as he read.

"If you need anything else, let me know. Specialty arms are a little hard to come by on the Nexus; didn't exactly pack for a war. But, I know a few people, back channels and all."

Ryder set the terminal down, exhaling as he wiped his hand over his eyes and through his hair, looking bleary eyed back at Vetra.

"No, it all looks fine to me. I don't think we're going to need too much. At least, I hope we won't."

Ryder stood up, holding his coffee as he walked around the cabin, looking at the bulkheads, the faux-wood floor, the windows to the view outside, stars rushing past at FTL speeds. Vetra watched him from her seat, the datapad tucked casually under her crossed legs.

"It's a hell of a thing, isn't it?"

Vetra cocked her head, one of her brow plates raised slightly at Ryder's comment.

"What, the ship?"

"That. But also all this. Andromeda, Heleus, the initiative…"

"The pathfinder?"

Wes exhaled slightly through his nose, laughing as he closed his eyes and bowed his head a little bit, looking up to stare forward out of the cabin's massive windows.

"Yeah. The Pathfinder."

A sip of coffee.

"When we came to Andromeda… when I came to Andromeda, I came for myself. Yeah, my sister and dad were with me, but I came mostly because _I_ was curious, because _I_ wanted to see what was out here. Dad was the pathfinder, he was the one who wanted to lead people, wanted that responsibility; I think part of that was his time as an N7. But I didn't want that."

Wes paused, taking a long sip of his coffee before looking out again, his eyes glassy as both hands cupped the metal coffee mug, the warmth comforting. Vetra stood up, the datapad forgotten on the couch as the sound of slow steps brought her behind Ryder, her reflection slightly visible to him as she cocked her head, matching his gaze to the stars ahead. She crossed her arms and tilted her head as she listened to Ryder, glancing at the reflection of his face every once in a while, sometimes down at the deck plating between them.

"I was ready to see what was here, to find what we had never found before, and I think my sister might have been the same way. But all of the sudden, Dad's dead, still don't know if I've come to terms with that, and I'm the pathfinder. There are 35,000 people on the Nexus; 35,000 people looking to me for a new home, for a life in a foreign, probably hostile galaxy; 35,000 people who don't know… who I don't know if I can care for or not. And in front of them, I'll be the confident path finder they need, but personally? I just don't know."

Silence hung between them as the hum of the engine got almost imperceptibly higher, the stars rushing by slightly faster. Ryder's gaze was glossy and distant, his eyes not focusing on the stars in front of him as his thoughts tumbled through his head, tired and confused and scared, but strangely peaceful for the vibration of the engine at his feet, the sight of the stars in front of him.

Vetra shifted her weight slightly, the creak of her armor stealing Wes from his Reverie as he visibly started, a small bit of coffee spilling onto the platform beneath his feet. He turned around, smiling melancholically at her as he spoke, closing his eyes for slightly longer than a blink before picking the datapad up from the couch and handing it to her.

"And look at me, telling all you this. You don't need to hear this. Yeah, those requisition orders look fine, and if you happen to find a pathfinder while you're at it, bring her on board. Maybe she'll be better at keeping a good face than I am."

Vetra took the datapad, looking down at it as she locked it before walking forwards, standing abreast of Ryder as she looked to the stars, Ryder turning around again to match her gaze, taking another sip of the black coffee.

"You know, Ryder, I talk to a lot of people. It's most of what my job is. And if there's one thing which I think they need, it's hope. Everyone came here sold on a new home, a paradise, a 'Golden World' on which to start new, and what they got was a mysterious death cloud and worlds which could barely support a krogan. Hope is what pushed the Nexus into uprising, what makes everyone so cynical. If nothing else, you've brought hope back. While it may not put food on the table or ground under feet, that counts for a lot."

Wes inhaled deeply through his mouth and blew it out his nose as he listened, weighing the words against his own guilt of unpreparedness.

"I hope you're right."

"I know I'm right. I was there for the uprisings; I saw them happen. And what caused them was a lack of hope. People seeing nothing but an empty space and a 600 year long conn game. But with a pathfinder, no matter how inexperienced he may be? There might be something out here yet. Besides, you've got the best team I could find, and the best ship I could save. If nothing else, we'll make sure _something_ happens."

Wes laughed weakly, another sip of coffee. Vetra looked at him, her mandibles open in a sympathetic Turian smile.

"I won't say don't worry about it, pathfinder. There's plenty to worry about in a new galaxy with hostile aliens and an energy cloud that is trying to kill us. But, have hope. You're a pathfinder, and it sounds like your Dad knew what he was doing when he chose you."

Scott smiled again, closing his eyes again.

"Thanks, Vetra."

"Talking's what I do. And besides, if nothing else, I've learned that I should be worried about that… whatever it is you're drinking, not guns. By the looks of it, that's your fourth cup."

Vetra gestured over her shoulder at the two empty caraffes sitting on Ryder's desk. He laughed, sipping again. His tone was jocular, again, the mix of confident professionalism with a hint of sarcasm, the pensive tone of before passing like a storm over a lake.

"Six, actually, and it's called coffee. Humans drink it to stay awake, it's got a decent caffeine content and a flavor you can really learn to love. I'll bet the Nexus has some sort of Turian equivalent, if you want. I know I'm half addicted."

Vetra walked over to the desk, picking up a carafe and putting it to her nose, recoiling as she smelled it. Her mandibles opened with unabashed disgust as she looked inside, a slightly horrified look finding Ryder as she spoke.

"What do you make it out of? This shit smells like a Pyjak's Spit!"

Ryder walked towards her, laughing.

"Coffee beans. You let the water steep in them. I'll show you sometime. But, for now, I need some sleep. I don't think I've let off the accelerator since SAM node."

Vetra nodded, walking towards the door, the automatic latch beeping as it opened for her, neither her not Ryder having noticed it had closed. Wes spoke, right before she got to the door.

"Vetra?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"No problem, Pathfinder."

"Call me Ryder. Or Wes. Pathfinder's just a title."

Vetra paused, looking down with what might have been consideration, had Ryder known Turian faces better.

"We'll see about that. You know where to find me."

Comments:

So, I finally finished Andromeda... played through most of it in two days. And coming off of it... I can't wait to sink my teeth into it. It's definitely a different beast than ME1-3, but I'm excited to tackle it.

Wanted to get a jump on the game and all the characters early, so I wrote this about 2 hours after finishing my first play through. I know, it's not the best thing I've ever written; I give it a 30% chance I delete it and try again and a 100% chance I at least revise it and add more. But, I wanted to put it up, and see what you guys thought before I re-worked it.

Comments would be loved (and useful) but above all else: enjoy!


	2. Off the Cliff

Eos, 1100

The barren desert of Eos stretched hugely in front of them. From their view on the plateau, Vetra and Ryder could see a vast expanse of rocks and sand to the south, large formations poking out of the flat ground like bones of a long lost creature. Hot air rose from the sands beneath their feet, laden with the oppressive smell of centuries of barren heat, the dust filling their lungs with every breath. Ryder alone had drank five gallons of water since touching down, and even still his mouth was always dry, the chalk in his throat catching his voice and aging him, sounds of decades given in minutes.

The edge of their chosen plateau brought a steep drop, the hundreds of feet below masked by the uniformity of the sand beneath, an illusion of safety, much like the rest of the planet. What had seemed simply an arid climate was a sand-blasted wasteland of radiation, wind storms, and seemingly everything a planet could do to break modern technology. Where settlers had once judged water potable and the empty desert a new home sat only the broken remains of hope. Vetra stepped to the edge, looking over to peer at the sand below.

"Fifty credits says we make it."

Vetra turned around, the pathfinder sweating in his hard suit behind her. While his eyes were hard to make out behind the tinted mask, the false confidence of his voice and the hands on his sideways cocked hips was unmistakable.

"You're gonna have to bet a lot more to convince me to go over _that_ in that death trap with you."

"Fine, one hundred credits."

Vetra narrowed her eyes at Ryder, her visor sensing the motion and giving a more detailed read-out. She scanned his stats, wishing she had paid more attention in the multi-species anatomy orientation in the Milky Way before departing. Still, bluffing looked the same in every species.

"You know, Pathfinder, I can't tell if I want to call you on your bluff or point out that we're looking for Remnant installations, not dare-devil jumps."

"Who says I'm bluffing?"

"Please. I've faked my way through plenty of situations in my time. The first rule of bluffing your way through something: you have to be at least somewhat able to deliver: If they call your bluff, you need to at least have some sort of way out. And the only way I see you getting out of this one is on a stretcher with a furious Lexi next to you."

"God, that sounds horrifying."

Vetra turned from the pathfinder, looking intently at the Nomad behind them. Specs on every aspect of the machine, from its drive train to its body material flashed in front of her, until eventually the one she needed appeared: "Max Fall: 300 d, Standard G". A quick glance at the pathfinder found him distracted by the view beside them, his resolution for making the jump apparently not strong enough to keep his interest. Vetra walked to the gap, pointing her visor at the ground, a the upper left hand corner of her field of view setting it to marksman mode: "Range: 268 d". A small smirk crawled over her face.

"You know what, fine, I'll take your bet."

Wes turned around, the stunned look visible even through the blue tinted helmet.

"What?"

The Turian swaggered towards him, her mandibles flaring as she smelled the blood.

"You heard me. I'll take your bet. 100 Credits, if we survive that jump. But…" A single Turian finger went up "If you chicken out, you have to back me up in a deal of my choosing."

Ryder's eyes darted wildly as Vetra laughed internally, watching the pathfinder fidget. He walked with urgent speed, trying not to show how nervous he was, to the side of the cliff, before staring back at the Nomad, his omnitool coming up to show a few frantic calculations. Vetra could see his heart rate rise as he walked forwards, extending a hand which was quickly taken.

"Alright. Fine. Let's do it."

Vetra gestured to the waiting Nomad.

"Yes, let's."

Ryder walked to the doors of the vehicle with the same mix of fake calm and underlying terror, his hands doing a poor job of concealing their shaking as he secured the five point harness on the seat. Vetra climbed in after him, confidence oozing as she sat smugly in the passenger seat, her self-satisfied grin not leaving her face as she strapped herself in. She usually made it a habit not to let associates see her win or lose – If they never see both, they'll never know when they've witnessed either. But she had the pathfinder cornered, a little bit of smugness seemed appropriate.

The electrical drive of the vehicle purred as they backed away from the cliff, the vehicle stopping as Vetra turned to see the pathfinder staring ahead with fixed eyes, his hands twitchy on the wheel. Without warning the vehicle lurched forwards, the engine screaming as the boost jets exploded behind them, the movement forcing Vetra into her chair as the Nomad flew off the plateau, the boost jets firing as soon as the wheels left the ground.

For an instant, Vetra could see as everything in the cabin experienced a brief moment of weightlessness, the straps from the pathfinder's and her armor floating up around them, the familiar fall in her stomach as her body lost track of gravity. Then, the gut-dropping feeling of a fall returned as she watched the sky and surroundings flash past through the window, the ground rushing towards them with alarming speed. The boost jets engaged one last time, a mere 50 yards from the ground as her comms sounded over the racket of the rushing wind and the still running engine, the pathfinder yelling at the top of his voice:

"Oh Shi…"

Tempest Med-bay, 1230

"And what was it again that convinced both of you that throwing the Nomad off the cliff was a good idea?"

Dr. T'Perro's soft voice sounded smoothly through the medical bay, but not without the biting edge of a parent's reprimand. Wes and Vetra were sitting facing each other, Ryder with a cast over his arm, Vetra a healing pad on her neck. Silence passed momentarily between the two as they looked at each-other, trying to figure out how to answer. Dr. T'Perro called again, incredulously.

"Well?"

Vetra tried first.

"We were on top of a plateau and saw something at the bottom… going off was just the most direct route."

Dr. T'Perro's laugh, though soft, did nothing to make the two feel any less like scolded children.

"Vetra, while I'm sure you're not technically wrong, I have a suspicion that's not quite the full story. Ryder, would you care to give it a try?"

The pathfinder fidgeted with his armor under suit for a pit, scraping dust out of one of the crevices, decidedly avoiding eye contact. When he finally did meet Dr. T'Perro's gaze, the faux casualness in his voice was unmistakable for nerves.

"Well, doc, truth be told we were all getting a little bored and frustrated down there. Liam had wanted to stick around Site 1 and keep investigating there, so Vetra and I went off to the plateau and I bet her that we could make it. Pure and simple."

"I didn't ask what happened, Ryder. I want to know why."

Set on his heels, Ryder's eyes darted from side to side, occasionally making eye-contact with Vetra and cursing his poor ability to read Turian faces. Eventually, an answer came out, cautiously.

"I dunno doc, I just… I guess I wanted to have a little fun. I did stupid shit like this more often than I'd like to admit back in my Alliance days. I guess… I guess the stress of the past two days has just been a bit much, needed to relieve the pressure a bit, you know?"

Dr. T'Perro's lips became a line as she nodded slowly, clearly considering Ryder's answer. She walked between the two, looking between the datapad which had been in her hand and the wall terminal as she input medical data, her silence weighing heavily on the two figures behind her. The sound of the Tempest's HVAC system filled the room before Dr. T'Perro turned around, setting the datapad on the bed and crossing her arms as she spoke.

"Be it no place of mine to tell you how to do your job, Pathfinder, it is my place to monitor the health of this crew, mentally and physically. And, whether you like it or not, you as the Pathfinder affect the welfare of this crew, and ultimately the initiative overall…"

"I know."

The interruption from Ryder came suddenly, quietly. His voice, though not loud, commanded the room with the gravitas it held, the hours of solemn contemplation and personal reconciliation that had been told in the two words. Vetra's mandibles twitched, Dr. T'Perro paused, levelling Ryder with scroupulous eyes. Ryder continued.

"I know that this is my responsibility. I know that I'm the pathfinder now, that I have to 'lead the initiative' and find a home for everybody. Trust me, Doc, I know what that means."

Dr. T'Perro's voice was steady, less aggressive, though no less firm. It demanded to be heard in a soft tone of the authority which can come only from wisdom and expertise,

"I'm sure you understand the responsibility, Ryder, but I'm not certain you understand the scope of it. The disillusionment which has spread, through the Nexus when the arks failed to arrive and through Hyperion when Habitat 7 was a bust, has left people desperate for a role model, a leader, an example. A pathfinder, no matter how new or unintended, is automatically that leader. Through not just your words, but your actions and reactions, you set the attitude and tone for this ship, if not the whole initiative. This doesn't mean you have to be invincible, if anything a touch of fallibility would aide in empathetic emotional response useful to leaders. But it does mean you have to watch what you do – things like jumping off a cliff with the Nomad – carefully, and consider what they mean."

The hum of the HVAC returned to the medical bay, filling the space, smothering any response which could come. Ryder was staring blankly into the distance through the deck plating, his eyes glossy and thoughtful, almost unblinking. Words sat on the edge of his tongue, protests of circumstance and excuses of situation, but they all fell mute when put against the importance his title gave his actions. Dr. T'Perro broke the silence with her data pad, the electronic chirps and whirrs grating against the mellow background as she input data into the incident report, stopping eventually to speak.

"Now, as far as I'm concerned you sustained your injury by falling at great height. Not wrong, and nobody needs to know anything else. I would encourage you, though, to consider what your actions say to those around you."

Ryder and Vetra, sensing their clue to leave, stood up and walked towards the door.

"Oh, and Ryder?"

The pathfinder turned around to see a small smile on the Asari's face.

"Please remember that 'Max Drop' refers to the vehicle's structural integrity, not the damage caused when a human arm violently makes contact with a Turian's neck?"

Pathfinder's Quarters, 2200

The coffee warmed Ryder's mind as he poured over the data reports from the Remnant installations, the words scrolling past his eyes with seeming no exchange of information. His specialty was in reconnaissance and scouting, not data management, and certainly not in xenoengineering. The information in front of him might as well have been a foreign language, but with Tann asking for a report on his findings, he had convinced himself that reading up on Remnant Tech would be useful. That conversation with himself had happened 6 hours ago.

A small chime from the door drew his bleary eyes from the illuminated screen, the display turning off automatically as he pushed his chair back, swiveling and standing up in it, a drop of coffee falling unnoticed on his pants. Vetra stood at the door, her eyes scanning the room again, despite this being her second visit.

"Vetra, please, come in. What's up?"

"Just wanted to level with you. Figure we survived the fall, and you didn't chicken out."

Ryder laughed, shaking his head as he gestured Vetra farther into the room, even her informal Turian upbringing telling her not to enter farther into a room without superior's performance. His voice was laden with equal parts embarrassment, bemusement, and shame as he spoke conversationally to her, a slight undertone of disappointment sneaking in at the end.

"Please, don't. You heard what Lexi said: I shouldn't have even done it in the first place."

Vetra shook her head, drawing her omnitool up and keying in a transfer of credits to Ryder, his omni lighting up shortly thereafter.

"Pathfinder, I was there, it doesn't matter whether I saw it or not. Besides, a bet is a bet. I keep my word."

Ryder laughed, picking his coffee up to his mouth to take a sip, setting the cup down gently on a spot on the table which was coffee stained enough, it was clear to anyone how much time Ryder spent reading reports on the couch.

"Fair enough. Fair enough. Just, please don't tell the rest of the crew? I feel bad enough for having done it, period, not to mention if everybody heard about it.

"Don't worry, pathfinder, they won't hear it from me."

"Good."

The conversation died abruptly, neither party believing it to be over, but neither knowing where to go next. Eventually, Ryder broke the silence, his voice slightly unsure again, embarrassed about his own insecurities now instead of his own mistakes.

"I really should have thought like this sooner. What was I thinking, driving the Nomad off a cliff… Lexi is right, I do set the example. I just hope I can set the example the initiative needs."

Vetra's response was calm, assured, as if she spoke of things she already knew. Since discovering the possibility of a new outpost on Eos, she had seemed to be downright hopeful, a window of idealism peeking out past her characteristic utilitarian realism.

"You'll be able to. Heroes always emerge, whether they're born or made. And I figure, with the title pathfinder, and being the last one's son? You've already got a head start on two."

Ryder shrugged, worry passed off unconvincingly as casual devil-may-care.

"Thanks Vetra, we'll see. Figure we'll all making mistakes together. Only difference is, sometimes mine have bigger consequences."

Vetra nodded, walking to the door before turning around and saying

"You know, Ryder, I was there for the cliff jump, and I'm pretty good at keeping my mouth shut. If you ever need to do something stupid again, just call me up. I'll keep quiet."

Ryder's chuckle was the first of genuine humor Vetra had heard, and his face seem relaxed at the humorous offer. Vetra made her way through the door, but the two kept talking ntil she was half-way down the corridor, yelling across the open door.

"What happened to that laser focus?"

"It's my job to get you everything you need, if that means time and means to do stupid shit, who am I to stop you."

"That's the most roundabout way to justify driving off a cliff I've heard, but I'll take it. Have a good night, Vetra."

"You too, Ryder. You know where to find me."

Notes:

Well, rather than scrapping or changing the previous chapter, I decided the addition was long enough it could be its own chapter. I realize the first part is a bit fluffy, but I'm trying to strike a balance between fluff and serious. Reardless, I hope I can work on the whole "building romance" aspect of these two through this story. I'm usually good at pre-existing relationships, but in them... that's when I have a hard time.

So, as always, read and enjoy! And comments would be awesome


	3. Break or break

To: All Hands

From: Ryder

Like I said in our meeting, great job on Eos. It truly was a team effort, and you should all be very proud of everything we accomplished there (from terraforming a world to not dying, great job all around). I received a message from Director Tann saying that our return to the Nexus will be greeted enthusiastically; I know I don't need to tell you all just how much this means for the initiative.

I've been told by Gil and Kallo that The Tempest is going to be down for a day or so once we hit the Nexus, so consider yourselves on shore leave for 36 hours once we hit the Nexus. Try to stay out of trouble, relax and celebrate a bit, and come back ready to hit the ground – or rather the cluster – running again at the end.

Crew Message Board Comments:

Who wants to go to Vortex? I'll buy the first round. [Liam]

Wait, is Vortex a bar? I have been out of the loop. I'll buy second round. [PeeBee]

You clearly haven't seen what the Krogan think of as a "round". [Drax]

I have time reserved on a training field in the Health Center if anybody would like to join me. [Cora]

Despite the large quantity of physical exercise seen on missions, dedicated physical training is important for your health. [T'Perro]

Yeah, Vortex sounds like fun. [Gil]

Tempest, Docked at Nexus, 1326

A box of "BlastOh's" lie on the floor next to her desk, the inside a tomb, standing in testament of the food which once resided inside. Emails and responses slid by as Vetra's eye's wavered, the words on the terminal sliding in and out of focus as she struggled to keep reading them. She had been working for hours, since Ryder's email, in fact (which she hadn't yet bothered to read), trying to get supplies for the crew – _I need the "supplies" for Drax, Cora wants some more shotgun mods, those armor mods for Liam might be tricky, but it won't matter if I can't find these replacement parts for the Nomad._

Their success on Eos had been exhilarating. The crew was all smiles and compliments as the colonists arrived, and the almost hysteric feeling of euphoria had slid right into that night, a clearing in the outpost soon home to one of the first proper celebrations in Andromeda. So proper a celebration, in fact, that Liam's head still didn't feel normal. Vetra had participated in the festivities, her hope ran just as deep as anyone's, and came as just as much of a relief after months of the hopeless emptiness of space staring at them, at her, where arks and pathfinders were supposed to be. But she knew, more keenly than most, that there was always more work to be done. Her mind crawled back to the years she had spent working two even three jobs as her body crawled back on to the Tempest, remembering the long days and longer nights as 13-year-old Vetra had tried to support her little family of two.

The list of acquisitions seemed endless – it always did. The Tempest was far from a well-tuned machine: the pathfinder still seemed to be figuring himself out, not to mention his role as pathfinder; Cora kept saying she was over getting usurped at Alec's decision but the occasional outburst at a punching bag said otherwise. Lexi still didn't seem to be able to comprehend just how many injuries a field team could sustain, and PeeBee still seemed tempted to use her escape pod of an apartment. But through it all, they all understood one thing: Vetra was the lifeline of the entire operation. Through months of hopeless stagnation, after an uprising and subsequent resumption of command, the supply lines on the Nexus had been turned into a nexus themselves, confusing twists and turns of bureaucracy standing between the ship and it's necessary supplies. Vetra's back channels, though, were a much needed life-line. And she, and everybody else knew it. It drove them to her office whenever they needed anything, and it drove her through nights of "Turian stimulant A113" and emails.

A knock at the door woke the Turian from a reverie she hadn't realized she was taking, the familiar blue of the visor snapping to life as she looked away from the screen, the IFF read-out appearing shortly after Ryder started talking.

"Vetra, you busy?"

"I'm always busy, Pathfinder. But, if there's something you need, I'm all ears."

Ryder walked in, his outfit the same grey, black, and blue uniform he had designated for himself. While Alec's clothes had always sported the familiar black and red coloring of his prided N7 rank, Scott refused to adopt the colors, calling them "An N7's colors, not a pathfinder's". Instead, he had colored a standard Initiative uniform slightly darker, with a black collar and grey main panels. He carried with him what looked like a duffel bag.

"I don't need much, just to know what you plan on doing on the Nexus while we're here."

Vetra laughed, turning her chair and standing to face Ryder.

"What, you taking role-call now?"

"Something like that. I figured I should know where everybody is. That way when Drack or Liam get in a fight, I know where to be worried."

"That's awfully pessimistic."

Ryder glanced sideways, awkwardly shaking his head and pursed lips.

"That was... meant to be funny. Anyways, what are you doing?"

Vetra's mandibles flared before snapping tightly to the side of her mouth, her tired eyes closing as Ryder drifted out of focus – _I really need another stimulant. Or a 15 minute cat-nap –_ she ran her hand over the top of her fringe, scratching it gently with her gloved hands.

"I'm staying here. Too much to do to take a break. I can get a lot done with 24 hours."

The pathfinder leveled Vetra with a look she was sure was intended to be disapproval, but somehow hit a tone much closer to confusion.

"Vetra, your terminal history says out of thepast 36 hours you've worked for 30 of them. You need a break."

Vetra shook her head, laughing breathily as she spouted all the justifications to keep working she had been telling herself for years.

"Yeah, but I need to keep working. The Tempest doesn't supply itself, and we need the supplies."

Ryder sighed slightly, shaking his head before looking around, his gaze setting on the empty cereal box on the ground before a small chuckle escaped his mouth. Vetra continued to watch him as a sideways grin made its way onto his face, and he met her eyes, an odd twinkle of what might have been called mischeviousness in his gaze.

"Do Turian's work out?"

"What do you mean?"

"Working out. Physical Training. Do Turian's do that?"

Vetra's bow plates dropped and her mandibles spread as she gave Ryder a thoroughly confused look.

"Yes? It's usually a part of a Turian's childhood, especially when they enlist. I didn't do a whole lot, though."

"Do you have clothes?"

"What do you mean?"

"Workout clothes? Did you bring any?"

"Usually turians just workout in their armor."

"You all have armor? What about the civilians?"

Vetra laughed, the question seeming stupid and obvious, though less so when a human background was considered.

"A Turian's armor is their social status: it bears their rank on it and scars from battle. Most are given their armor as a parting gift when they discharge. There are a few events – councils, wedding assemblies, so on – where armor is the acceptable outfit. I pieced my set together from what I could find, though."

Ryder's head seemed to recoil as his face made an odd human expression Vetra couldn't place, something between amazement and bewilderment, with one eyebrow and a corner of his mouth shooting upwards on his face.

"Huh. Alright. Good to know, I guess."

Ryder looked up, thoughtfully, then opened his duffel bag and looked inside, his brows furrowed as Vetra could practically see plans broken down and rearranged in his head. After a pause, he spoke.

"Alright, I'll go suit-up in my armor. Meet me at this nav-point" Ryder brought up his omnitool and a location popped up on Vetra's "in 45 minutes. Bring water."

Nexus Apollo Commons, 1420

Vetra looked around the empty common area as she waited for Ryder, the space dark and empty. The HVAC system was barely operational here – just enough to keep air moving – and the majority of the space was still being used as storage – crates and containers of supplies strewn around where walkways and shops eventually would be. The trees had yet to be brought out of bio-stasis, and their trunks glowed with the stasis nanobots.

The area was similar in theme to the docking bay – a simulated sky available above, though the ceiling was currently a blank grey, trees planted around and various benches, meeting areas, and tables strewn around. It was a long area, 150 meters in length and approximately 50 in width, walkways the room oriented to the main rotation axis of the Nexus. The entire area had a balcony running around it with what looked like storefronts leading onto it, stairs leading to it at regular intervals, a few maintenance ladders still mounted. Panels were missing from the floor in places, the metal of the floor skeleton peeking out as an industrial reminder that, not even two years ago, this station was a collection of parts brought in the biggest freighter ever built. The entire space smelled of stagnation, of waiting, and the dust on the floor showed just how long it had been since people had worried about it, building it to put off the frenetic worry of survival before abandoning it in mind and body. The door sounded as Ryder stepped out of the tram.

"Vetra, glad to see you're already here."

"Pathfinder, mind telling me what this is all about?"

The pathfinder laughed, fiddling with his omnitool as he spoke, the lights and HVAC systems in the space springing to life at his command.

"Well, loathe as I am to say it, Lexi is right – we do need some exercise. I was gonna take the opportunity to work out today anyways, but seeing as you're determined to lock yourself in that closet of yours all day long, I figured you could use a little tiring R&R as well."

Ryder began to stretch as he finished his sentence, Vetra's response slightly annoyed at what seemed like the charity work, her mind still fixed on all the emails she could answer in the time she was spending here.

"I appreciate the gesture, but I have a lot of work to do. There's orders to place, deals to…"

Ryder cut her off, still bent over for his stretch.

"We all have work to do. Trust me, you don't want to know how many unread emails I have at my terminal. But part of my job is to look out for the crew's welfare, and that includes you. Work is important, yeah. But you can't work yourself raw all the time and expect to still be productive. You need a break. Besides, just as a person you need a break, for your sanity."

Vetra's glare burned holes in the back of Ryder's head as he continued to stretch, but he ignored the heat he instinctually felt there, instead beginning to stretch his legs as he looked around at the space, evaluating the lay-out, clearly looking for something.

Vetra broke the silence, her voice reluctantly resigned.

"Alright, I'll bite. What are we doing, then."

Ryder continued to look around, planning. Eventually, after a few pauses, he spoke.

"Obstacle course. This part of the station has been pretty much abandoned since they built it, and since it's on the tips, I figure it'll stay that way. Three million people down the road, yeah, this place will be bustling. But, for now? Perfect secluded training ground. I pulled a few strings with kesh to get power down here. So, I figure so long as we've got armor on, we could find a course and run it for time trials."

Vetra looked around as Ryder talked, scouting out her own path over crates and under trees, up ladders and over balconies. Her visor tracked her motion, mapping a course out on the landscape. Ryder pre-empted her.

"Here's how this is going to work: we'll run up these stairs, across that balcony, vault over that crate, jump jet-over to that bench. Then, crawl under those benches, then sprint to that ladder…"

Nexus Apollo Commons, 1535

Ryder lay on the ground, panting, sweat running down his forehead to his auburn hair, dripping on the ground from there. Vetra was not too far away, sitting with her back to a tree-planter, her chest heaving similarly as she panted at the air, trying to lose heat as quickly as she could. They remained there for longer than either of them could think, time giving way to fatigue as they both tried to recover from the 12th run of the course. What had started as joking around a course as colleagues had turned into racing as friends, had turned into simply trying to finish it in the time interval they were given. Ryder had worked out like this before, but never with armor; and Vetra had rarely worked out this way before, relying mostly on her work to keep her in shape. Vetra spoke first, her voice sinking mostly into the subharmonic range as she continued to struggle to regain her breath.

"Well, Ryder, while I don't think we're in a position to put amusement over necessities, I'll admit: That was good. Never knew jumpjets could be used that way."

Ryder laughed, rolling over and pulling himself next to Vetra, the two panting next to each-other, staring blankly at the wall across from them.

"Neither did I until I tried it. Where'd you learn to slide like that?"

Vetra looked over, her mandibles spread in amusement as she tapped the armor over her breastplate.

"Learned to skid on this thing a few years back. Trust me, you don't want to know why I ended up learning it."

Ryder laughed, wiping new beads of sweat off the edge of his nose, wiping the water off on his thoroughly soaked undersuit.

"I'm sure I do, but I'll ask later. Honestly, it kind of reminded me of a penguin."

"A what?"

"A penguin. Flightless bird from earth. They slide on their stomachs on the ice. I'll send you a few vids, you'll either laugh or hate me, probably both."

"We'll see."

Silence sat between the two, the camaraderie of shared sweat and physical misery (sweat only proverbial for one, but the misery of the training real for both) before Ryder groaned his way up, offering a hand and pulling Vetra up as he spoke.

"Well, I want a couch to lay on, and Kesh granted me access to this whole block. Want to see what kind of apartments there are here?"

They started walking, up the stairs (much to the protest of their legs) before coming into one of the residential corridors leading from the commons. As they walked past, Ryder poked his head in different rooms, the furnishing blank white and blue to match the Andromeda theme of the Nexus, waiting for the touch of an inhabitant to make it seem anything but a staged apartment. As they walked, Vetra spoke.

"Already shopping for property, Ryder?"

A small laugh as he exited another apartment.

"Not quite yet. Besides, who's to say I'm not just going to live on the Tempest my whole life?"

A pause as Ryder evaluated another apartment.

"This one."

Vetra walked in, the apartment small by terrestrial standards, but moderately large for a space station. Ryder had already started moving a couch, a large set of bay windows opening up to a view of the gas clouds around the Nexus, the occasional maintenance shuttle zipping by. After moving the couch – a motion Vetra found hilariously reminiscent of Liam – Ryder began taking off his chest and arm pieces, the plating hitting the ground with a heavy "thud" as air began to flow over his undersuit, his relieved "sighs" enough to indicate his contentedness.

Ryder flopped down on the couch, Vetra sitting next to him. He spoke first.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"Uh huh."

"When I was younger, my mom would take me to fly through the clouds around the citadel, talking about what they were made of and what we knew about them, how much we didn't. But, ultimately, I think I just loved the way they played with the shuttle's engines, the vortices in the back, the streams over the window."

"Uh huh"

"Eventually I got old enough to understand what she was saying, but by then I already knew how beautiful the galaxy was, how much I… Vetra, are you working?"

Vetra's head snapped quickly up to meet Ryder's gaze as her visor hastily minimized all the email and trading tabs she had pulled up while Ryder was speaking. Her eyes widened and her mandibles flew out, mouth shut, her face like a child pulling a cookie out of the jar. A long pause ticked by before she answered.

"… No."

"Vetra…"

Vetra's eyes closed for half a second longer than a blink as her mandibles tightened, the Turian equivalent to pursed lips, her head angled down.

"Yes, I was. Look, Ryder, I enjoyed the workout, and the whole 'take time for yourself' thing. But, I've got a lot of work to do. I can't give this much time to fun, not yet. My job is to keep you, this crew, at top capacity. And I do that with the skills I've got – negotiations, acquisitions, 'back channels', etc. That doesn't involve sight-seeing."

One of Ryder's eyebrows slowly rose as he listened, his mouth skewing to one side, a response already forming in his head.

"I know you've got work. And I know you're driven. And maybe I just can't keep up and that's why I'm dragging you along. But, I also know that, as much as you don't want to admit it, you're human too… well… turian, I guess. You're not a robot, let's go with that. I've seen the supplies of stims you've got, the boxes of cereal. You binge on work and then expect yourself to run at full capacity, and that's just physically impossible. If I have to 'order' you to do this, or whatever it is I can do as pathfinder, fine. But, you need a break. Whether you want one or not. And, I'll bet, if you're really honest with yourself, you'll agree."

Vetra stared Ryder down, for a bit, her eyes searching his before she smiled a little, her reply laced with a bit of joviality.

"I guess we did just establish the initiative's first outpost on Eos."

A smile from Ryder.

"Precisely. And who was it that said 'I'm going to enjoy this for as long as it lasts'?"

"That was more long-term, and you know it."

"Doesn't mean I'm not going to use it. Now who's having trouble keeping up?"

"You were, on that last lap. I totally beat you off that balcony jump."

"Like hell you did."

Ryder smiled, laughing as he turned back to look out across the expanse of gasses, the currents flowing in the cosmic winds like a glowing ocean in the serene blackness of space. To his left he heard the soft purring of a headset and omnitool, the occasional click of a turian finger going too far and hitting armor.

"Vetra…"

"Just finishing up a few things, don't worry."

Eventually the sounds stopped and the two sat and watched the galaxy outside while their legs seized up, a feeling both could identify but neither wanted to admit, nor think about. After a few minutes Ryder spoke, his tone friendly, if still slightly professional.

"Thanks for joining me. Working out is always more fun with somebody else."

"Thanks for dragging me out of the Tempest. And making my legs feel like two lead pipes. I'm going to remember this, Ryder. Just wait until you need incendiary rounds again."

"Do I even want to know what you could do with those?"

"I doubt it."

Author's Comments:

Hey all! I don't know how many of you actually read my comments, but I love explaining things here anyways. So, wanted to branch out a bit from the past two "Vetra reassures Wes" storylines and give the friendship a bit more give and take. I'll admit, I'm a bit unsure as to my characterization of Vetra - sometimes when I'm writing her she turns into Garrus or Tali. Comments on that would be appreciated. Besides that, I know this is fluffy as a down blanket, but fluff is where a lot of character building happens, in my opinion, and at the end of the day, character building/flushing-out is half of what fanfiction is. The other half is... a bit unspeakable, haha.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed it! Comments are always welcome and appreciated, I love knowing if you guys are enjoying this or not!


	4. Friends Sounds Nice

Havarl, 1100 Hours

The lush jungle was awash with sounds of life, birds – or as close as his planet came – flew overhead as a very bruised and tired pathfinder made his way through the dense underbrush. It had been two days since they had landed on that planet, and three hours since they had activated the vault. In that time, Wes had lost track of how many bites, scratches, bruises, mauls, decapitation, infections, attacks and falls he had avoided on this planet. Jaal had been annoyingly at home on the planet, jumping deftly out of the way of whatever predator had decided they had lunch written all over them, laughing slightly as he did it. Vetra had been less at home but still adept, her jump-jet rarely idle and her trusted cyclone now accompanied by a small Asari shotgun she "picked up from some raider back in milky way" (whatever that meant). But Ryder… This planet had taken a clear toll on him. His armor was grimy and muddy, showing the result of many dives into the soft ground below; he limped slightly after his ankle was banged up by "whatever the hell you call those awful dinosaur things!" (creatures Jaal informed him were actually called "Rylkor"); and his jump jet was sparking from an unfortunate tumble in the Vault. Still, Ryder was walking through the jungle, towards the nav-point Vetra had given him.

"This better be worth it" he muttered under his breath, stepping over a particularly large rock only for his foot to get sucked into a knee-deep puddle of mud. The hardsuit kept him dry, but the sensation was still unpleasant.

A dual-toned voice crackled over the coms. "What was that pathfinder?"

"Oh, nothing, Vetra. Just saying how much I still love trudging through this swamp-hole of a planet."

"Come-on, Ryder. Weren't you the one who was saying you wanted adventure? Exploration? To see a whole new galaxy?"

"Yes, but I didn't want an entire planet designed to kill me!"

Moments passed as Ryder continued to beat his way through the undergrowth, curses and exasperation abound. Eventually he came to a small clearing, the trees avoiding what looked like the remains of a remnant road. Vetra stood on one side, two weapons laid at her feet. On the other were what looked like three sim targets, their blue glow blending in with the soft bioluminescence of the foliage behind.

"Ryder, how nice of you to join me." Turian mandibles flared in amusement as human eyebrows dived in consternation.

"Yeah, yeah. So what did you need, Vetra."

"Well, after the past two days, I thought you could benefit a little bit from some training."

A scoffing laugh sounded through the air over the hiss of Ryder removing his helmet, the damp, natural air flooding in to replace the sterile smell of the hardsuits filters.

"While I appreciate the thought, I do know how to handle a rifle."

Vetra bent over, picking up one of the weapons at her feet. It was oddly geometric, glowing blue along the seams and seemed to hum as it moved through the air. There was what looked like a handle, in front of which was an oddly angled grip. The stock was split, as if it was designed for your shoulder to fit inside of it, and the barrel was split as well – the top sporting what looked like stubby vents, the bottom looking like a single piece of metal.

"No, Ryder, you have alliance training on how to handle a rifle. But, frankly, I've seen you use one. And while I'm all for learning by doing, there are a few things I could teach you that could keep your ass a bit more alive out here. Now, this…' Vetra tossed it to Ryder as she spoke, before picking up her own usual weapon. '… is what the eggheads are calling a 'Sweeper'. It's an assault rifle based off remnant tech, highly experimental. But, for a few favors and a case of Angaran Ale, they let me get one."

Wes looked down at the weapon, feeling it vibrate slightly in his hands as the weapon seemed to emit energy. His hands tingled as he pointed the rifle down-range, the metal quickly warming up in his hands. He brought his head down to where he would imagine the sights would be, and as he did so a set of holographic sights rose from the top of the weapon, a stark blue diamond with a dot in the center.

Behind him, Vetra was loading her own weapon, giving it a systems check as she spoke to Ryder.

"Now, from what I've seen of you so far, sink-changes are your biggest hang-up. Good news: this thing doesn't have heat sinks. It operates off of an internal sink, like the old Kassa Breakers. You shoot, you wait, you shoot again. It shoots in three shot bursts with minimal recoil, so you'll probably be able to put all three rounds on your target…"

"Vetra, why are you doing this?"

Wes' question interrupted Vetra's train of thought and she stopped, looking almost dumb-founded, at Ryder.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean why are you training me like this, getting me a special weapon? I know how to handle myself. I won't pretend to be some super badass who can nail a fly at 40 yards with a pistol, but I can handle myself nonetheless. Do I look that incompetent? Am I that… bad?"

The pride was almost palpable in Ryder's voice as he felt frustration which had been kept on a simmer for weeks now come to the surface, despite his best efforts. He stowed the rifle on his back and continued, pride turning to frustration, bleeding into anger. Vetra's mandibles flared in confusion as she stowed her rifle on her back, her head tilting to one side as she listened to Ryder.

"Look, I'm not my dad, alright? I know this. It's been made painfully obvious to me. In more ways than one. But, I do know how to handle myself, at least a bit. If I look that bad, or that incompetent, tell me. If I seem like I don't know what I'm doing, I don't. But if there's one thing in this job I might know something about, it's what I learned with the alliance. And everybody loves to tell me I'm doing fine, but I know I'm not. I know I'm not who you, or Cora, or Jan, or anybody wanted. If I look bad, if I need to do something tell me. But just… don't bullshit me."

Silence fell between the two as Ryder's sudden outburst floated away. Birds flew overhead and both of them could hear a Rylkor stomping around 40 yards away. Vetra spoke first, her voice softer, slightly concerned.

"I didn't mean to hit a pressure point. Sorry…"

Ryder bowed his head, and closed his eyes as gloved hands massaged his temples. His voice was quieter, almost regretful.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have blown up at you like that. These past few days have been… stressful. And I guess I've just been more worried about… all that, than I thought. You didn't deserve that."

Again, heartbeats of silence.

"Bit of a hair trigger, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"For what it counts, I can't tell you don't know what you're doing."

Ryder looked up with one eye, an eyebrow shooting up in skeptical curiosity.

"Really. I can't. We're all a little lost out here, Lexi might even tell us we came out here to be lost. But none of us know what we're doing. Out of all of us, though, you're the one who seems to pretend like you know what you're doing the best. So, really, I can't tell."

As both eyes opened, the pathfinder's head came up, his face pulled to one side as he considered what his coworker, growing friend, told him, his eyes darting back and forth. Eventually he took a deep breath, his hands slapping the sides of his legs. Vetra continued.

"Look, Ryder. You're right, you're not your dad. And yes, we can all tell. But that doesn't mean it looks like you don't know what you're doing. You have your own way of doing things, you are your own person. And, right now, that's the person we're all looking at to get us through this mess. Even if you don't know what you're doing, you're putting on a pretty convincing act. But here's the thing about an act – there's always at least part of it that's real. So, at least part of you knows what you're doing."

"Thanks? I think?"

"You know, that was meant to be a bit more reassuring. Words – these kinds of things, aren't really my strong suit. I guess I'm trying to say you're doing just fine, we all trust you, and you're doing good stuff."

Ryder laughed, wryly. "I certainly hope I am."

"I know you are. Now, you want to relax by shooting some stuff?"

"You're still pushing this training thing, aren't you?"

"No, relaxation through shooting."

"Vetra, when have you ever pushed anybody to relax."

Vetra's mandibles hugged her face as she opened her mouth, the Turian equivalent to sticking out her tongue. She reached over her back, her rifle deploying into her hand as she started talking, Ryder following her lead, the new rifle still feeling alien in his hands.

"Alright, now right now you're shooting with your body turned to the side of your target. While this provides you with a smaller presented target, it's not nearly as quick to change targets. So…"

Pathfinder's Quarters, 1945 Hours

The stars shot by the ship with technological ease, the blue aura around the window bathing the cabin in similar fashion. With their nose squarely pointed for Voeld, the crew had settled down for three days of FTL travel. Lexi was sitting in her lab running tests, Cora had set up a mini biotic training station in the cargo. Liam was watching movies with Drack, and Jaal was still pouring over historical records in his adopted Quarters. And ryder stood in his cabin, enjoying a cup of steaming black hazelnut coffee as he watched the universe slide by.

Vetra's boots sounded from the down the corridor as she knocked on the door, entering the cabin timidly.

"Ryder?"

Ryder looked behind him, smiling at the Turian before gesturing her towards him, stepping to the side so that she had room to enjoy the view as well. In her hand was a similarly steaming cup of… something, Ryder didn't know. It had a slightly off-putting dark green color, and appeared slightly thicker than water. The smell of it was.. not unlike that of scrambled eggs, and he could see the small rivulets of steam rising from the three-fingered mug. Vetra stepped astride of Ryder, looking forwards with him as they both, fairly simultaneously, took a drink of their respective "coffee".

"Vetra, what can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you could… well, if you've got the time… I was thinking we might need to…"

Ryder tilted his head at the Turian as she spoke with an uncharacteristic lack of confidence, the normal semi-swagger which had developed over years of self-sufficiency suddenly gone as she stared straight ahead. Her voice wasn't panicked, but it wasn't the normal semi-sarcastic totally sharp play of tones he had gotten used to, either.

"Are you… bored?"

Vetra's sudden sigh was exasperated to put it mildly as her mandibles flared out as wide as Wes had seen them. Her voice now had a strong overtone of resentment, laughable reluctance to admit the fact that she was, in fact, bored.

"Gil said that, after that encounter with the Archon, and given the mission we're on, we had to turn off coms, go 'silent' – as if there's noise in space. "

At this point Wes couldn't help but giggle a little bit under his breath as Vetra Nyx, the workaholic of the Tempest, didn't know what to do with herself when she couldn't work. A light swat on the arm met his laughter.

"… _aaand_ I concluded all the work I could do for deals until we get back into contact. So, I'm done."

"You didn't bring a book or anything?"

A bitter sip from what looked like bitter Turian coffee.

"I did. I just would much rather talk to people. Liam and Drack are watching movies, spirits punish me if I interrupt them. Jaal is doing his whole 'study all the milky way' act. Lexi is, of course, running tests. Gil is… well, I don't actually know where he is, don't know if that's comforting or concerning. And Kallo and Suvi are talking about the ship's specs – interesting, but not what I'm after right now."

"Well, glad to see I'm top of your 'talking to' list."

"That's not what I meant. We've got a crew of introverts. And, well, I like people."

Wes gestured over towards the couch, Vetra's longer legs taking her to her seat faster than him on long strides.

"Well, I happen to be a person. So, feel free to come in any time to talk."

"Don't you have pathfinder work, or something?"

Ryder laughed, sipping his coffee as his eyes darted subconsciously to his terminal, the new-email light flashing for the 11th day in a row, still unchecked.

"Yeah. But like you, I like people. I'll get around to that later. There is one condition, though."

Vetra's head angled to her left as she sipped her drink again, cupping the mug as she finished. "What's that?"

"You have to come with a story."

"A story, huh?"

"Yup. If we're gonna talk in-transit, I might as well get to know my new friend."

Vetra's playful laugh echoed through the cabin, a welcome respite from the monotonous drone of the HVAC system.

"You think we're friends, do you?"

"I think at the very least I'd like to be."

Vetra's expression was almost… shocked. Like a flashbang had just gone off in her face. Instants later she shook her head, the expression becoming thoughtful as she examined the bulkheads above her, thinking. Eventually, after Ryder had downed half his cup of coffee, she spoke.

"A story, huh? Alright, Ryder, here you go. So, about 2 years ago – well, I guess a lot longer actually, but 2 years to us - I was running this load of Geth tech from the citadel to the Quarians. Not explicitly illegal, not explicitly legal either. So it was just me and my partner – Soln Vorchanus, an old friend of mine – in this tiny little spaceship, probably no bigger than our cargo hold. So we're cruising through empty space, nothing on the scanners, quiet day, so Soln and I are eating some dinner in our pilot chairs.

When all of the sudden, this ship comes out of nowhere, and I mean nowhere – didn't have it on scanners, didn't see it on radar, ladar, none of it. It actually looked a lot like the Tempest, strangely enough – same pointed bow, four engines, wings on the sides –much longer, though. Anyways, this dammed ship flies out of nowhere, and we get caught in their engine wash. So we start tumbling around, our galactic plane is nowhere to be found, and we're starting to feel the force on our seats.

Now, we weren't in planet, so gravity stayed the same, but Soln, it turns out, gets a little motion sick. I don't know what you know about turian motion sickness, but it's pretty different from Human motion sickness. Rather than throwing up, we pretty much just go delirious – manic, crazy, ecstatic, all of it. So, Soln stands up, and yells 'I'll protect you!' and bolts into the cargo hold.

So while I'm busy stabilizing the ship and getting us back on track, I hear all this banging in the back, and next thing I know the door opens. And out steps soln, dressed head-to-toe in used geth parts, wielding a geth prime's umbrella like a knife, yelling 'I'll get them! Just tell me where they are!'. Well, what else am I supposed to do but just break down laughing, and about 30 minutes later he realizes what happened and came back to his senses. We get the cargo to the Quarians, it's all fine, whatever.

Fast forward six months to his wedding, and he's opening all his gifts at the assembly, and up comes my box. Well he opens it, and what is in there?"

Wes had been laughing heartily through the whole story, Nyx's natural speaking abilities bringing the scenes to life as she gestured around herself with narrative energy abound.

"Don't tell me… was it…"

Vetra was laughing now, her coffee on a table, long forgotten.

"It was! A geth prime antenna, and in it a note that just said 'Go get them!'. I think he still has it."

Wes kept laughing, before calming down, sitting on the cough, red in the face from laughing, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

"You know, Vetra, that's good, that's good. I like it. Alright, I've got one. So, I'm a young lieutenant on this patrol, right, first time out on my own…"

Pathfinder's Quarters, 2655 Hours

"You didn't!"

"Oh, you can bet your shoulder plates I did! Jumped right through the laundry chute, landed among some very confused room service."

"Oh my god, Vetra, that's a whole new level."

"You're one to talk, Mr. I-lost-a-shuttle-but-found-it-while-on-a-run."

"Fair enough, fair enough."

The laughter from the pathfinder's stateroom filled the corridor with brilliant mirth. In crew birthing Cora had put in her earplugs to keep the sound out, and Lexi was shaking her head at her table as she made another incision on the specimen.

Vetra and Wes panted from the laughing, both clutching their abdomens as their laughter died out, empty coffee pots and caraffe's strewn around them, the collateral damage of a night of story-telling. Vetra was the first to notice the time as her visor blipped the change of day.

"You know, Ryder, we should probably be getting to bed. I hope you can sleep after all that coffee."

"Trust me, I've been addicted for long enough, I'll be just fine. I hope you can after all that… whatever that is. Come to think of it, what is it anyways?"

"What, this?" Vetra held up the empty container she had grabbed from her quarters of the dark green liquid. "I suppose this would be the dextro equivalent to coffee, it's called Nisean."

"Is it caffeinated?"

"It wakes us up, if that's what you're wondering."

"I was. You gonna be able to sleep?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Like you said: Addicted for long enough. This stuff has gotten me through more long nights and close calls than I'd like to admit."

Both stood up, Ryder walking Vetra to the door. They stopped their, standing an arm's length away as they kept talking.

"Well, Ryder, thanks for talking. This was… nice. I suppose it makes sense to colonize a new galaxy with a starship full of introverts, it's just not the easiest for those of us who aren't."

Ryder chuckled, a soft smile appearing on his face as he thought about his crew.

"Yeah, I guess they are a surprisingly introverted group. But hey, any time. Exchanging stories is great, feel free to drop by whenever you want."

The turian equivalent of a wry smile spread onto Vetra's face as her left mandible flared, her right staying on her face, her brow plates rising on the left side.

"Well, hopefully next time I'll have some work I can do instead of just bumming around."

"Ouch. Man, talk about a burn."

Vetra's eyes shot open as she thought through what she just said, Ryder's faux-hurt face giving way to a laugh and a smile as Vetra shook her head at him.

"You know what I mean, Ryder. I'm a natural worker, it's where I'm most comfortable."

"Yeah, well, new galaxy, new habits. I'll see you relax yet."

"Some other time. Goodnight Ryder."

"We'll see ya later, Vetra."

"Oh, and Ryder?"

"Yeah?"

Ryder turned around to see Vetra smiling at him, a genuine expression of comradeship that he hadn't seen on a Turian face but had seen from his human friends 600 years away he could recognize quickly.

"I think friends sounds good. Lord knows we need them in this galaxy."

A quick nod sent Vetra into the night. The door of the Pathfinder's stateroom closed as Ryder heard crew quarters open to a series of moans as the lights automatically turned on, a rather vulgar protest from Liam sounding across the hallway as Ryder shook his head and laughed. He sat back down on the couch, truth be told he wasn't so addicted to coffee that 6 cups in 9 hours couldn't affect him. He looked around, surveying the damage, running through the night, the stories as he did so, laughing to himself at every punchline. His thoughts ran as he cleaned up the space.

 _Friends does sound good. 600 years is a long time without any._

 _Comments:_

Hey guys! I'm sorry to leave this story so long, apparently 4 weeks out from graduating college isn't quite the same as graduating, and I've still got a ways to go. So, life took over. Anyways, here's another story. Sort of a combination of fluff and filling in the gaps. To put a timeline to this one: after finding the Angaran, the Tempest goes to Havarl, activates their vault, and after that is where this story starts. Then, they head to Voeld to rescue the Moshae, which is where the second part of the story takes place. Anyways, as always, comments are much beloved, and Kudos are awesome too. Let me know what you think, but most of all, enjoy!


	5. A Little Friendship

Pathfinder's Quarters, 1600 Hours

The armor cleaner in the corner of the room hummed away as the Pathfinder fell into bed, still in his undersuit, the swirling winds of Voeld howling against the hull of the ship outside. Through his window he could see the windswept landscape, grey peaks and white valleys obscured by the dancing snow which perpetually fell. The sky swirled in grey fluidity as the serenely omnipresent grey clouds were pulled by the tempests below. Through the storm, a shuttle landed.

A constant cold sat under Wes' skin, seeping into his bones. It had started from the moment he stepped foot on the planet, but had not left him since he had seen the Angaran turned into his own enemy. The long needles and anguished writhings of the poor soul sat just behind his eyelids, and he shuddered as he slipped under his blanket, pulling it to his chin as he lay on his side, watching outside. The crew was in shock after they had landed, the adrenaline of combat and action keeping them going right up until the Moshae was placed safely in the Med Bay. Jaal had stepped back, his eyes hollow and distant, his sounds practically silent as he glided out of the medical bay, a ghost in his heart and his eyes. Vetra's mandibles had been kept tight, never wavering from her mouth, and barely a word had come from her as she retreated to crew's quarters, and Ryder had heard the shower turn on soon after.

The HVAC systems in the ship went into overdrive as the environmental controls struggled to ward the cold of the planet away from the ship. Acute loneliness swept over Ryder as he lay, his senses keenly aware of the fact that it was him, and only him, in the cabin. He pulled out his omnitool, pulling up the messages screen. The screen flashed at him, a harsh orange, as he struggled to think of who to talk to. He and his crew were close, but in a professional sense. He hadn't really spent time with any of them. The occasional drink in Vortex, sure. But that was more "team-bonding", as Sara would have put it, than genuine friendship. He couldn't really imagine discussing how he felt with Cora; Lexi would analyze it all. Jaal was dealing with it himself, and didn't look like he wanted to talk to anybody. Kallo and Suvi hadn't been there, they wouldn't understand, neither would Gil. But…

Andromeda Initiative Messaging System V2.6

[Ryder] (1603) Hey

Vetra was lying in her bunk, staring at the painted metal above her, the covers pulled up to her chin. The cold from the planet still resonated through her body, her plates pulled together in an attempt to retain heat, but she doubted it was an effect of the weather. Her mind was still reeling from the Kett facility, the seconds in which an innocent Angaran became an enemy of the shoulder playing out in vivid detail again and again in front of her. She shuddered every time she saw the two syringes plunge into their chest, the liquid bubbling under their skin as their eyes rolled back in their head, their body writhing as its nature was changed at a fundamental level. The horror was… unbelievable. The ship had seemed quiet when they had walked on, everything from the sonds to the colors of the spaces which defined her normal life seeming… dulled. Her omnitool pinged.

[Ryder] Hey

A small chuckle escaped from her mouth as she looked at the message, blinking in soft orange from her omnitool. She pulled her arms out from the covers, typing away a response.

[Vetra] Not the most original way to start a conversation, but I'll bite.

[Vetra] Hey

[Ryder] With how today has gone, I don't have much more in me.

[Vetra] You thinking about it to?

[Ryder] I don't see how I couldn't. I feel like I just watched a murder except, worse.

[V] It is worse. At least in a murder you're dead.

[R] Yeah. I wonder how much they remember.

[V] For their sake, I hope none of it.

[R] Yeah. How's Jaal, you seen him?

[V] Not after he went to his "quarters'

[R] I hope he's okay.

[V] How could he be? He just saw one of his own people turned into a monster.

[R] Good point.

[V] You ever thought about why we're here.

[R] No.

[V] You know, you're very good at responding but saying nothing.

[V] And people give me crap for not being talkative…

[R] Sorry. I don't usually text people.

[V] Well, then why are you texting now? I'm only a door and a half away.

Vetra stared at the message as soon as it sent, her eyes scanning it over and over as an uncanny feeling rose in her stomach. For some reason it felt off… suddenly one word hit her head like a ton of bricks: flirtatious. The bottom of her stomach dropped as she watched the typing indicator flash at the bottom of the screen, reading the line over and over again. _No, Vet, that's not flirtatious. It's just a fact… But pointing that fact out is totally flirtatious. Spirits._ After what felt like an eternity, Ryder responded.

[R] Honestly, my bed is super comfy right now. And, if I were a betting man, I'd bet yours is right now too.

[V] Fair enough. Are you not a betting man?

[R] Not normally, no. In the Navy, I never liked to act unless I knew how it was going to end up.

[V] That explains so much.

[R] About what?

[V] Nothing. I'm just sure Lexi would have a wheat week with that.

[R] I'm sure she has.

[R] "wheat week"?

[V] Yeah, isn't that a human saying?

[R] You're thinking of "heyday", but I like "wheat week" too.

[V] Well, give a Turian points for trying.

[R] Oh don't worry, you always get points in my book.

Ryder stared at the screen, a look of mild horror on his face. _Shit, you really just said that, didn't you? That was 100% flirtatious._ The "typing" indicator mocked him as his mind raced, planning every recovery and response after something as unintentionally flirty as that. _Was it unintentional? Yes, you numb-nuts! We're only just friends, flirting is, like, a few steps down the road! Wait, do I want it to be a few steps down the road?_ A response interrupted him.

[V] Well that's good to hear. Not going to get cast off the ship?

[R] In this weather, definitely not. I'm not that mean.

[V] I don't know, I heard you talking to Peebee the other day…

[R] For the record, she cleaned my coffee cup! You don't do that.

[V] Because…?

[R] Because it's tradition! You should have seen mine on the Frigate. Thing was a few years' seasoned.

[V] I don't even drink coffee and I know that's disgusting.

[R] Yeah, well… sue me.

A few minutes passed.

[V] What are we doing?

[R] What?

[V] What are we doing?

[R] No, like, what do you mean?

[V] We're making jokes, small talk. Like friends. We literally both just watched a man get turned into his enemy, suffer a fate worse than death, and we're making small-talk about coffee cups?

[R] I'll bet it's coping mechanism.

[V] Thanks, Lexi.

[R] No, seriously. You're right: we just saw somebody suffer a fate worse than death. After something like that, I think it's only natural that you run to something more familiar, comfortable. Like jokes with good friends.

[V] Fair enough. I suppose you're right. Still, it feels… wrong, somehow.

[R] Do you need to talk more about what happened?

[V] No.

[V] Maybe.

[R] If you do, it's okay

[V] Okay, fine, yes. I do. It really… it really unnerved me. But, I don't think I can say why, yet.

[R] Fair enough. I'm sorry to admit, I'm falling asleep. Talk to you… whenever we both wake up?

[V] I'd like that. Sure, sounds good.

Nexus Observation Deck 023, 2200 Hours

The door behind Vetra opened with a mechanical hiss, the Ryder's figure reflecting in the window. The large room was empty save for Vetra standing in-front of the huge bay windows, looking out through one of the massive arms at the cosmic clouds which swirled around the space-station. Benches sat in rows behind her, empty, dusty, yearning for a time years away when the station would throng with the heartbeat of life a galaxy out of place but still home. Signs lay dormant above concession stands, the great carnival of the cosmos still reserved for the privileged few, awake to see the foothold made. Ryder's steps echoed through the room as he walked towards Vetra, standing next to her as she stared outwards, visor turned off, her eyes distant in a uniquely Turian way.

"Hey Vetra, what are you up to?"

Vetra started, her head shaking slightly as Ryder's voice woke her from some deep reverie. She stuttered before she spoke, surprised vowels escaping her mouth before discernible words.

"What?"

Ryder looked up at her, seeing her eyes visorless for the first time to his memory, her brow plates receding from their low place of deep thinking. His voice was professional, though nonetheless sounding disappointed.

"If you wanted to be alone, that's fine. I'll go."

"No, you're fine!"

The response was quick, not frantic nor desperate, but fast nonetheless. Ryder, who had turned to leave, turned back, crossing his arms over his chest in a mirror pose of Vetra as the two of them looked out of the obersvation window together. Silence reigned, but it was different in texture than any previous. This time, it wasn't bloated by the awkwardness of social uncertainty, or of wards fighting to get out. Instead, the majesty of the view, the alienness of the very winds which caressed the stars, filled the room and their silence. Vetra was the first to talk.

"How's the rest of the crew?"

"Oh, their normal selves. Drack, Gil, Peebee, and Liam are all at Vortex. Lexi is knocking elbows with some of her Doctor Friends. Suvi is down in the labs, Cora's hanging with a few Asari friends, Kallo is… wherever kallo is, and Jaal is connecting with the Angaran embassy on the Nexus."

"Good, good."

"I'll be honest, I was surprised to find you here. Would have expected you to be working or something."

"Oh, don't worry, a contact of mine left about five minutes ago. I just stayed to enjoy the view."

"Do I even want to know?"

"Nope, first rule of smuggling: tell your client what they got, but never where they got it from."

"So I'm a client now, huh?"

"In a sense, yeah."

"I suppose I can live with that."

The clouds outside flowed in and out, around and over each other in a cosmic dance of fourescent beauty. The station rotated around and Ryder could see the edge of the cloud, the shimmering blue light giving way to a starkly dark night sky, pinpricks of alien stars illuminating an alien night around them, the room becoming dark, save for the pilot lights on their omnitools and Vetra's armor. Vetra was the first one to talk.

"What are we doing out here, Ryder?"

"huh?"

Ryder looked up with a confused expression, the abruptness of the question equally piquing his interest and confusing him as the darkness of the sky outside hid his expression.

"What are we doing? Making a new life in a new galaxy? Getting involved in a war which isn't ours? What are we doing?"

"I'll admit, Vetra, I can't tell if you're looking for me to reassure you, or my opinion. And I don't want to give you one while you're asking for the other."

Vetra laughed, looking down at Ryder who had a look of grim uncertainty on his face, which made her laugh even more. She leaned forwards to rest her elbows on the safety rail, shaking her head as she stared into the "sky" around them, the abyss infinitely close through the clear window in the empty room.

"I've never been asked that, Ryder. It's a bit blunt, don't you think?"

"I'd rather blunt than wrong."

"I like that. I guess I'm looking for both."

"Both?"

"Yeah. I want your opinion, and I want it to match mine."

Now it was Ryder's turn to laugh as he leaned against the railing.

"Fair enough."

He paused to think, the stars turning in-front of him as he watched them. The station's rotation was smooth, leisurely, adding motion to the profundity of the stars which they looked at. Light travels the same in Andromeda and the Milky Way, and yet to both there was an alien nature to everything that they saw, a knowledge that their species' home worlds were but an unobservable dot in the middle of a new blackness.

"I think… I think we're building our homes here. I think we said that we came to explore, but at the end of the day what we came to do was to make a home. And that's exactly what we're doing. I think we are discovering new planets, new technology, new worlds and new civilizations, and that's what we thought we would be doing. But at the same time, I think we're making a place in a new galaxy: friends where we need to, enemies where we must. I think… I think we're adapting."

"Good."

"So, I take it that was up to spec?"

Vetra laughed, the dual-toned sound filling up the room with echoes of itself.

"Yes, that was pretty good. I agree."

"Well, it's nice to know you're still-on board with my intentions. Because that's going to drive a lot of what we're doing from here on out."

"You talking about doing things besides chasing down The Archon?"

"That too. But also just… exploring. We've got the Moshae, we're finding the Vaults. But we didn't come here to defeat the Kett. We came here to make a home. And if that means we recruit the other Krogran, or find the other pathfinders before we activate all the vaults – I'm fine with that."

"I agree, Ryder. Besides, I'm always on your team"

"Good to hear, thanks Vetra."

The two watched as the gas cloud rotated back into view, the pale light illuminating the empty room, throwing shadows on the floor as it came over the top of the window. Vetra stepped back, sitting down and crossing her legs, Ryder doing the same, the smell of old, sterile dust rising as the two did so, watching the galaxy spin outside their own, private window. A Turian voice filled the space.

"You know, pretty soon we're going to have to deal with other people in here."

"What, once the rest of the station is woken up?"

"Yeah."

"It's certainly going to be busy. What do you think you're going to do? After all this? Go down for a colony?"

Vetra stared out the window, her mandibles flapping idly through the air as she thought, her subharmonics making a soft sound, so deep that Ryder could barely discern it, and even as he did he felt it more in his chest than heard it in his ears. After a few minutes, she answered.

"You know, I don't think so."

"No?"

"No. A colony would be nice, and maybe someday I'll settle down. But I like it too much out here. Working among the stars, pushing the boundaries of a new galaxy."

Ryder laughed slightly, crossing his legs and crossing his hands casually while sitting, matching Vetra's outward gaze.

"I'll be the work would be better on the Nexus, though. A full city: lot's of people are going to need lots of things."

Vetra laughed, dryly, almost sadly. Ryder looked to her, the tone of her melancholic laugh causing him concern.

"You're right. No shortage of customers. The more I think about it, the more I came to get away from that. I smuggled because it paid the bills, it kept my sister and I alive. But running with you, being on The Tempest, the more I realize that's what I want to do: I want to explore. I want to see this new galaxy first-hand."

"Well, I know I'd love to have you along for the ride. Even after we get all the vaults activated."

Vetra's heart skipped a step as she heard Ryder's statement and her breath caught slightly. Her eyes darted slightly around the view outside, and her mind ran wild inside her head as she processed what he said, everything it meant, everything it could have meant. _Why does that excite me so much, to hear him say that? We're just friends, and recent ones at that! Maybe that's it, I've never really had friends, and now I'm making them here._ Little did she know Ryder was going through a similar process, but much more confused - _was that flirting? Was I flirting with her? God, this is just like when I said "I won't run out on you", isn't it? Ryder, you should just… stop putting words out of your mouth. Apparently your foot fits better there._ Vetra stumbled her way through the response, her voice unsure and her cadence showing it.

"Well… that's… good to hear. Ryder. Thank-you. I'd… love to stay along for as long as you'll have me."

"Good to hear. Good to hear."

Silence reigned, this time impregnated with an unsure awkwardness. Vetra spoke first.

"You said everybody else was down at the bar?"

"A fair number of them, yeah."

Vetra stood up, her visor flickering on as she extended a hand to Ryder.

"Well, come-on then, let's go!"

Ryder laughed, looking at the hand then Vetra with a mockingly raised eyebrow.

"Don't you have work, or something?"

"Work can wait for when I'm on the Tempest. Besides, you only get one new galaxy per lifetime. Let's go have a little fun."

Ryder grasped Vetra's wrist and she grasped his, the two pulling towards each other as Ryder stood up, quickly walking out of the space.

Tempest Crew Quarters, 0215 Hours

The yells as the two walked up from the storage bay couldn't have been missed by anybody as far as Aya. Wes' voice was arguably the dominant one, yelling off-tune through laughs.

"Oh my god, that was… that was so great, we gotta make sure to do that more often."

Vetra's voice wasn't much better, and they were both stumbling down the hallway as they supported each other's weight.

"We… we definitely should. I need to… I need to stop working so hard."

"No no, it's good. Working is good, it keeps us… with the stuff… and stuff."

"Wes, you're… you're drunk."

"You are too, Ms. Nyx."

"Yeah, and that's why I'm going to bed."

The two let-go, propping themselves up by holding onto the bulkheads as Vetra opened the door with her omni-tool, revealing a too-empty crew berthing.

"Swhere's all the other… people?"

"I think they're still there, Vet."

"We are… we are a couple… a few lightweights, aren't we."

"Yeah… it just means we're… focused. Or something."

Vetra stumbled a few paces through the door before she turned back, speaking at Wes with the most earnestness her voice could muster under the influence.

"Wes… you were… you were so right."

"Abo…about what?"

"You do need fr… bud… friends out here. It's, they're, you're… friends are what make it all worth it. Thanks for being my firnd."

"Thanks for being… for doing mine, Vetra. You're… you're the best. I… I lo… li…"

"You what?"

"Ya know… I don't know what! Isn't that just, craaaazy? Goodnight" Wes wavered, clutching onto the bulkhead as his face was spread with a drunken manic smile. Vetra nodded at Wes as they both stumbled into bed, Vetra hitting her head on the top of the bunk before falling asleep.

Tempest, 0730 Hours

Andromeda Initiative Messaging System V2.6

[V] Ow.

[R] Your head too?

[V] My everything. How did last night get so crazy?

[R] I don't think I remember anything after Drack pulled out a flask of Ryncol. You?

[V] Turians don't black-out. Don't worry, you didn't do anything crazy.

[R] Who's brilliant idea was it to schedule Quarters at 0800?

[V] Yours.

[R] Shit.

Author's Comments:

Hey guys! So, another chapter! i'm liking this pace of roughly a chapter a week! this one's a bit of a long one, but I think I like it. In my fictional stories, as in my life, I can never tell when to introduce some romance. But, I figure around two in-game flirts seems appropriate. Besides, it's gotta come in some time, otherwise we never get to full levels of ship! As always, comments and likes are great (oh, and questions! Usually there's literally notebook pages of head-canon behind my stories, so I love answering questions!). But most of all, enjoy!


	6. Turning a Little Faster

Kadara Port, 1900 Hours

Ryder sat on the edge of the port, watching the majestic landscape that unfolded in front of him. The sunset glowed with honey-pink light that bathed the alien landscape in warm rays. Behind him, the techno thump of the club's music could be felt more than heard, far enough away to not interrupt the serenity of the scene in front of him. Soft footsteps sounded behind him, though he barely noticed.

"Enjoying the view?"

Vetra stood behind him, looking out from the edges of the dock, her visor almost unnoticeable in the light of the evening.

"Something like that, yeah."

Vetra sat down next to rider, her feet dangling off the edge with him, kicking mildly in the freedom they enjoyed.

"You been in to explore the port yet?"

"A little bit. Went in to meet our Angaran contact, met with Sloane Kelly – she's a piece of work. Still have to go interrogate the Angaran."

"No, I mean actually explore the port."

Ryder looked at Vetra quizzically, his left eyebrow shooting up as he tilted his head slightly to the left. Vetra's brow plates lifted and her mandibles flared out as she spoke.

"You know, like where the real people live? Where you are right now, this is to Kadara what the docks are to the citadel – a collection of travelers and smugglers, here for the night and nothing more."

"So, have you been farther in, then?"

Vetra stood up excitedly, extending a hand to Ryder as she did so. He followed suit, taking her hand to help lift him to standing next to the precipice of the landing platform.

"Yes, I have been farther in. I lived here for a few weeks, actually. Let's go exploring. I'm hungry, you want dinner?"

The growl in Ryder's stomach answered for him, and Vetra was greeted primarily with a sheepish grin from the Pathfinder.

The two started walking, into the port first, passing all of the shops and din which Ryder was familiar with until they came to what had initially struck Ryder as a wall of junk. A closer inspection, though, with the help of Vetra activating the hidden console, revealed that it was actually just a creatively disguised door, blending in perfectly with the grab-bag assortment of equipment which made up the majority of the walls and corridors in the port.

Ryder looked around with childlike wonder as Vetra led him down a corridor, wide enough for three or four people to walk abreast in, her dual-toned voice explaining as they walked.

"See, the people who settled Kadara – the outcasts – for the mostpart aren't all bad. Yeah, there's a vocal minority whose entire platform is 'screw the nexus', but that's not really representative. The majority of people here just wanted a life with a little bit more… control, than Tan allows for on the Nexus. Once they found Kadara and started to settle in, the lack of a clear police force, government, or any regulations made this an immediate pirate and smuggler's haven. They were happy for the trade, we do keep the money flowing here, but most people here don't want anything to do with it. So they separated Kadara Proper from the port, hid the entrance. They get to live a life largely free of the vagrancy in Andromeda, the pirate's still get a place to booze and laugh and trade, and everybody makes money. An elegant solution, really, if you think about it."

After a long distance the tunnel opened up and Ryder was greeted by a small square in which hundreds of people were walking about. The buildings bordering the square had the same chanty-town feel of what he had seen in the port, but the smell of vomit and sewage had been replaced just by general life – the faint tingling smell of power converters, the dust kicked up from a Turian walking by, the sweet aroma of the food stand to his left. The square itself was modestly sized, approximately 50 yards at its widest point, and at even intervals five roads split off into what he could see was a rather thriving city. To his best guess they were on the backside of the mountain that Kadara was on, this square being the tallest point of the entire establishment, but the tunnel had effectively disoriented him with an occasional and random turn (a feature he was certain was rather intentional).

Vetra started walking confidently down one of the roads and Ryder followed, his mouth still agape as he took in the sights and sounds around him. The outcasts had clever handcarts that they used, the cargo area glowing blue with Mass Effect Fields as they hauled clearly heavy wares with ease up and down the narrow and inclined roads – it was clear this was a pedestrian's town. Species of every kind – Turian, Asari, Humans, Angarans, Salarians, even a few Krogan – stood around, clothed in dull greens and blues, bartering over the cost of this upgrade or that fruit. Only a handful of buildings looked to be more than two stories high, though there were some that were large enough to cover an entire block. While not dirty, nothing in the city seemed particularly sturdy, almost as if all of it had been built as a placeholder for a more permanent building which had yet to come. Looking forwards to see Vetra a few yards ahead, Ryder trotted forwards, speaking while he ran.

"So, do they have, like, a government here? Police? Civil servants?"

Vetra laughed, smiling at Ryder as the two dodged around a human and a Turian who clearly disagreed on the true value of a pistol.

"Of sorts. There's no formalized government, as you're thinking. Sloane's word is still law back here. Any sort of government or civil tasks happen at her word. Say what you will about her, though, she does a pretty good job. Most tasks are taken care of fairly quickly, and the majority of her 'shoot first ask later' goons stay on the port side. In here."

Vetra dodged to the right, Ryder following suit, into a small diner with a low ceiling. An L-shaped counter hugged the back corner with a door to the kitchen behind it, and on the counter behind glass sat plates of Turian and human food. 8 tables filled the rest of the space, chairs surrounding them. Vetra walked up to the counter and quickly a short Turian left the kitchen, wiping her hands on a rag as he did so. Her face was scarred in places and his colony markings were all but weathered away. A frown hugged her mandibles to her face, but as soon as she looked up to see Vetra, her eyes lit up and her voice erupted with dual-toned joy.

"Vetra!" Vetra was practically yanked over the counter into a crushing hug. "Oh how good it is to see you! It's been a few months, no? Please, please, sit sit!"

The turian gestured to the tables filling the space and Vetra and Ryder turned around to find a table of four, taking seats opposite each-other with the new turian seated to Vetra's right. She continued.

"Vetra, you've got to tell me what you've been up to? How is life on the Nexus? We've heard rumors of a pathfinder, is this true? Is he real? Or is it a she?!"

Vetra was about to open her mouth when the Turian's attention turned to Ryder, her eyes blatantly looking him over from top to bottom, her mandibles flaring slightly as she did so. The subharmonics of her voice getting deeper as she spoke.

"And who's your new friend?" She turned to Vetra, her voice lowering in volume "you didn't tell me you kept such cute friends! I like him!" Ryder's face reddened as the new turian spoke and Vetra gave him a look which was an even mix of exasperation and amusement. The turian turned back to Ryder. "I'm sorry, where are my manners. 600 years out of the hierarchy and look what I've become! I'm Trivenia Quo, but most of my friends just call me Tri. I run the finest Levo-Dextro diner in Kadara."

Ryder's face made how taken aback he was by the bombardment of friendliness quite obvious and, stifling a laugh, Vetra took over the introductions.

"It's good to see you again, Tri. I'd like to introduce you to my friend, Wes Ryder, _Pathfinder_."

Her clear emphasis on the last word was not lost on Trivenia, and she gave Ryder another impressed once-over, glancing at Vetra who nodded at her as if confirming that her information was accurate.

"Well, nice to meet you, _pathfinder_. Here, let me get you something to eat."

Trivenia stood up, hustling behind the counter as she took out two plates, loading them both up with heaps of oddly green and pink food, which Ryder recognized from neither Levo nor Dextro diets. Vetra leaned across the table to speak to Ryder in confidence.

"Trivenia is one of my most reliable contacts here in Kadara. She worked with Blackwatch – a Top Secret Turian Spec Ops team – before coming to Andromeda. As you've seen, she's very friendly to those she likes. Get on her badside, though… it's unlikely any of your loved ones will see you again."

Trivenia returned from behind the counter, placing steaming plates of… something, in front of both Ryder and Vetra, though neither were terribly certain whether it was food or not.

"Now, forewarning you two, these are some of my newer recipes – I went out to collect some plants outside of town and made these. The turian dishes taste pretty good, and my human friends say the same about your food, pathfinder. So, eat up!"

Kadara Proper, 2130 Hours

The plates were left empty besides Ryder and Vetra, replaced instead by warm mugs of some alcoholic drink neither knew the origin of, and doubted they wanted to know. The conversation was still as engaging as ever, Vetra lauding Trivenia with stories of their adventures thus far in Heleus, of their contact with the Angarans and battles with the Kett. Ryder would chime in, when he could, but quickly found that his story telling skills were a little lacking compared to the adventuring smuggler, his sotires usually petering off into forced laughs and rushed changes of subject. Vetra was finishing a story.

"… and then, just to top it off, Wes said something really silly like 'Eat this, you Kett bastard', just something way over the top, and BAM, sent one round right between this bastard's eyes. It was incredible."

Trivenia laughed, looking Ryder over again, before standing up, gesturing to her guests to stay seated, saying simply "one moment" before practically running behind the counter. Vetra and Ryder were left alone, staring at each other. Ryder spoke first.

"I like your friend, she's fun."

"She is, isn't she? Probably one of my favorite people in this town. Actually, definitely my favorite."

"Do you come here often?"

"Not anymore. When we were still waiting for a pathfinder I lived here for a few weeks, just for the fun of it, wanted to see what outcast life was like. Not quite my style."

"No?"

"No. As it turns out, I like to have actual air filtering and running water all the time, imagine that."

"Yeah, imagine that.."

Ryder's voice drifted away as he could sense the small conversation dying, his heart sinking as he tried to think of something to say. _Dammit, Wes, come on! Think of something! She's so much fun to talk to, to listen to, there's gotta be some way to engage her in another topic. Maybe ask about her work here? No, she's made it clear she's trying to move away from all that. Her gun? Please, let's not talk about guns for a while… dammit!_

Before Wes could think of something to say, Vetra started talking.

"You know, Wes, this place reminds me of Omega a lot. My sister and I lived there for a few years. Low rent, always work, it was pretty good, all things considered. Most people think Omega is just this town of vagrants – people who want to live outside the rules, 'shove it to the man' as some humans say. But, for the most part, it's just people with nowhere to go. This place is sort of the same way. Most aren't living here because they hated the nexus, most are here because they didn't think they had a voice. They were outcasts long before they were cast out. The only difference is, they might still have a chance at somewhere to go here."

"What do you mean"

Vetra took a sip from her glass, staring out the entryway of the diner into the now-quiet street, here eyes looking through the shroud of night out the building. After a few moments, she spoke.

"In the milky way, everything already had a place. The galaxy already had a rhythm. You went where you were needed, you knew what that meant. But out here… it's a fresh start. We've just barely established two outposts in Andromeda, and there are tons left to set-up. After we get those up and running, once we've got a full government between the colonies that isn't just The Nexus, these people might be able to get a home there. The biggest difference between here and Omega, is hope."

Ryder laughed, taking a long swig from his drink before slamming it down on the table, a little more forcefully than was soberly necessary.

"Next you're going to tell me I am that hope."

"Well… yeah."

Before Vetra could keep talking, Trivenia came back from behind the kitchen carrying a small, octagonal tube in here hand. Her steps made it clear that it was heavy, and by her smile Ryder could tell that it was special to her. She set it on the table before talking.

"Now, Pathfinder…"

"Please, call me Wes."

"Alright, _Wes_." A small Turian goading smirk. "This piece is really special to me. Without going into any details, she's seen me through a lot, put down a lot of bad people. I've only just met you, but if Vetra likes you (and trust me, she does), then that's enough for me. I'm getting to be a little too old to lug something like this around, but that one on your back, I'll gladly take. So, I propose a trade. This…" she pressed a button on the side of the tube and it extended into a sniper rifle. "for that."

Vetra gasped softly as she looked at the rifle on the table, the block printed words on the front reading "BLACK WIDOW ". Ryder stared in awe at a weapon he had only ever heard about, the geometric design beautiful in its own way, a bringer of death in the right hands. Slowly, he reached out to touch it, his hand softly brushing against the cold frame of the weapon.

"Tri… are you sure?"

"Of course I am. Like I said, I'm getting too old. Not only that, can't have our pathfinder bringing out some stupid peashooter in the field, now can we? Lord only knows where the Turian pathfinder is, and there's not even a peep about the Asari or Salarian one. Right now, you're our only hope. And if that armor and your stories have anything to say, you've become quite the soldier. A long way from an Alliance Naval Officer – I've seen you all shoot, I know you're horrid, no shame in it. This weapon deserves to do good work, to shoot the right bad guys and protect the good ones. It's certainly not going to do that here."

Dumbfounded, Ryder looked to Vetra who stared at him, before jerking her head in a clear "Well, go on!" gesture. Ryder reached behind him, removing his Initiative rifle from his back and handing it softly to Triviana, who smiled while looking the weapon over, stowing it expertly on the mounting plates of her soft armor. Ryder reached forwards, picking up the heavy weapon and collapsing it down into it's smaller form, stowing it on his back, adjusting his shoulders as he got used to the new weight. The room was silent.

Triviana stood up quickly, rubbing her hands together in a very human motion before picking the plates up.

"Well, you two, it's time for an old woman to go to bed, so I've got to kick you out. Visit again some time?"

Vetra and Ryder stood up to leave, turning around to answer in unison "Of course, Tri."

Kadara Port, 2430 Hours

The moon shone eerily over Kadara, bathing the Tempest in a beautiful pale light, the reflective sections of the ship throwing a dance of colored light over the surrounding buildings. The port was only a slight bit quieter at night, the constant din from the music still omnipresent in the back of everyone's mind, like a song which all were struggling to remember but never could.

Ryder sat, again with his legs dangling off the edge of the platform. He knew, in the back of his mind, that there was a severed head of a Kett not 30 feet away from him, but that was pushed out by the beauty of the landscape before him. _Man, how much that would have freaked me out not 3 months ago…_

In his hands was his new rifle, freshly polished and cleaned. A man of selectively fastidious nature (his weapons and armor were perpetually spotless, the same could not be said for his stateroom), cleaning the weapon had been the first thing he had done upon return to the Tempest, the smell of gun oil and mass effect fields becoming strangely soothing to him since his time in Heleus. Afterwards, the sound of a flying creature – he knew not which – had called him outside, and the view had kept him there.

His mind was empty as he looked at the mountains before him, but he found that the subconscious wandering of an amazed mind was enough to solve many of his problems – or at least bring him conclusions he had never reached before. He thought about the crew, how they had come together. How Lexi had come into her role as team doctor quite naturally – no matter how much she complained about the number of injuries the crew was able to sustain. How Suvi was finding divine beauty in their new galaxy, a faith in final resolution that few others on his crew or the Nexus could boast. How Liam was learning just what being explorers meant, coming to terms with his own displacement as well as the slow acceptance of others; his continual outreached hand a constant force for friendship within the cluster.

And then, there was Vetra.

Before Ryder's mind could turn properly to Vetra, or rather tell him properly what he thought of her, the familiar soft stomp of an armoured Turian approached from behind, the familiar two-toned voice calling out.

"Out here again?"

"Yeah, I guess this place is just too beautiful to pass up."

"You know, Ryder, you're gonna have to sleep sometime."

"After I finish enjoying this."

"Fair enough."

Vetra sidled down beside Ryder, not asking for an invitation. The silence between them was comfortable, of a silence between friends, but nevertheless pregnant with conversations that could be, though neither party felt capable of starting them. The closest thing Andromeda seemed to have to a bird flew overhead. Ryder spoke first.

"This planet is a hell of a place. Pirates, beautiful mountains…"

"Trade deals with no regulations…"

"That too."

A short pause.

"This used to be my favorite place to come. I'd fly down here on a 'borrowed' shuttle, carrying enough to make a profit. Find an inn for a few nights, enjoy the scene. There's something very… freeing, about being here. In both good and bad ways."

"What stopped you?"

"All… this." Vetra gestured at the Tempest behind them.

"I'm sure you'll find time after all… this. Suvi estimates we'll be out here no more than two more months before the Nexus reaches full viability… whatever that means."

"By then, maybe we won't need all this. If we've got a foothold in Heleus, an actual government and structure, who's to say Kadara port needs to stay?"

"I'm sure they will. You said it yourself: people have built a life here. That's not something they're going to want to just uproot and move randomly."

"I guess you're right. I just love the idea of a new Heleus government."

"Why, not fond of the old one?"

"No, I have no hard feelings against the hierarchy, or even the council. I just… In the Milky Way, everybody was classified by their species first: Turian, Human, Asari; and then after that people cared what you did or who you were. Maybe out here, with a bunch of mixed worlds, we can change that. Make a galaxy that's truly communal."

"You think it'll work."

"I hope so."

Another pause. Vetra started again.

"When I was younger, working construction jobs for my sister, she and I found our way into some Salarian dominant space. They were all very nice, but the more I asked the more I got turned down. It was… heart breaking. Sid had to beg on the streets just to get food for her, and I practically starved. It took a few months before an old Salarian told me that Salarians don't hire Turians. When I asked why, he just looked at me like I was crazy and walked away. That's… that's always stuck with me. It wasn't big – I eventually found a job and Sid and I got off that rock – but the memory of his confusion, how shocked he was that I would question it? That's stuck for a while. I don't want the next generation to grow up with that."

Ryder paused, looking at Vetra to see that her visor had turned off, a clear echo of the pain from the past on her face.

"I never knew that. That sounds… awful."

"I haven't told anybody else, except you."

"Well… thank-you."

"For what, sharing an old sob story that explains an impractical aspiration?"

"For trusting me enough to share that."

"Oh." Vetra paused, looking at Ryder with momentary confusion and shock. "Well… yeah. Of course."

"For the record, I like your idea."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. As the galaxy's newcomers, Humans are constantly getting told by other council species to 'wait our turn' before we get serious say in galactic matters. And I can understand that we're a little new and inexperienced. But, to me, it's always seemed like that would give us a good perspective on things, a new take, help shake off some cob-webs, you know? I'd love to make a calaxy for all species, run by all species."

"Yeah… wouldn't that be something."

Vetra took two breaths before she looked at Ryder, a small grin on her face, her tone quickly shifting from wistful to teasing.

"So, _pathinder…"_

"Oh man, here it comes"

Vetra's laugh trickled through her sentence.

"Was that 'Singularity Sailors' I heard playing in your room last night?"

Though the moonlight prevented Vetra from seeing, Ryder's face turned brilliant red at the question.

"It might have been, why?"

"You're a Singular? Really?"

Immediately, Ryder took up the rallying call of his show and Vetra laughed as he defended it with passion and excitement.

"Look, the first series' writing really stands up, despite it's lack of special effects technology. And the second series? There isn't really a better science fiction show on the vids to date! Its writing, its cast, its focus on character development and plotline over flashy special effects… it is the model that almost all sci fi vids are based off of now! Everybody from Captain Richard to Counselor Troiven, they all stand up as back ground characters. The third series, I'll give you, is a little stale. But the fourth had some really compelling ideas and subplots, and the fifth did a fantastic job of exploring the prequel days before the original show! At the time, it was visionary, and now it is foundational! So, yes, I am a 'Singular', and yes, I do enjoy it!"

Vetra's laughing had reached hysterical levels as Ryder finished, her lungs burning as she struggled to take a breath. Through the laughter she spoke.

"Wes, those vids were old when we left, not to mention now!"

Ryder's face was still slightly red from consternation.

"Okay, fine, I got a little bored when I was a teenager, thought I'd watch it since everybody kept on spoofing it and making fun of it. Is there a point to all this?"

Vetra was still laughing, though it was dying down.

"Yes, actually. What if I told you I know a guy who has an unopened box-set of Singularity Sailors' vid disks?"

Ryder's head turned, and had he been a dog his ears would have picked up, instantly.

"What do you want me to do?"

"What are you willing to do?"

"Literally, anything."

Vetra laughed, her tone now jokingly predatory.

"Well, then, I think I might get them for you, if you promise me I can hold onto this favor."

"Vetra Nyx, I'll do literally anything for you."

"Promises, promises!"

As Vetra said it her head came out of the pool of laughter that it had been swimming in, her eyes noticing the mere centimeters that sat between hers and the Pathfinder's face. Her tone was intentionally flirty, a tactic she had used with most of her closer clients. But with Ryder… with him so close… she questioned whether it mightn't be actually serious. Ryder apparently noticed too because he quickly moved back to his position, nervously clearing his throat as he blushed furiously under his cheeks.

Silence again reigned between them.

Ryder spoke first.

"You know, Vetra, I was doing some thinking today."

"That's never good."

"No, I promise you, this isn't another 'Let's clean the entire tempest!' idea. Actually, I was thinking about this crew."

"And?"

"And how we're getting along. And, I gotta say, I think you're my closest friend out here."

Vetra stopped to think about Ryder's statement before speaking again.

"Where is this coming from, Wes?"

"I don't know. I just… thought I needed to tell you."

Vetra waited, staring at Wes as she counted down until the further answer she knew was coming arrived.

"Well, actually…"

 _Right on time_

"I guess being out here, in this port, reminded me just how… alone, I am out here. I came with a family of three, myself, my sister, my dad. But Dad's dead and Sara's setting the record for waking up from cryo. We've got the crew, but most of them just work for me, if that makes sense. We don't interact a whole lot, we don't talk outside of work. But you, us? We hangout. We go get dinner. We talk about unified governments and whatnot. The worst feeling in the world was when I realized that it had been months since I last told my dad I loved him when he died. Since then, I've been trying to make a point to tell people what they really mean to me. So, thanks. For being my friend."

Vetra smiled in her Turian way as she saw Ryder trying to make his statements heartfelt, the endearing nerdiness of his behavior and speech getting the message across where his words couldn't. In due time, she responded.

"The feeling is mutual, Wes."

Wes leaned back, looking up at the alien sky filled with alien stars, content at getting his message across. A part of him wanted to say more, wanted to tell Vetra more than just things about friendship, but there was such a mass of intentional and unintentional distractions pushing against it that he was able to primarily contentedly look up. Vetra followed suit, enjoying the world without the bluish purple tint of her visor in the way. The two threw their hands back, supporting their weight as they looked upwards. Vetra's right tertiary finger found Ryder's pinky, quite by mistake (she told herself), the contact electrifying for the both of them. Suddenly that deeper part of Ryder's mind which he had kept quiet so ardently flared up, yelling at him all the wonderful traits of his best friend in Heleus, shouting to him to move further, see where this connection could go. Vetra's mind had a similar voice, though she had been largely unaware of it until now, traditional Turian stoicism silencing it more effectively than Ryder's simple distractions. However, the two stayed where they were, their hands touching, their minds reeling at 100 kilometers a second, and the world seemed to turn just a little bit faster.

Hey guys! Sorry it's been a while since I posted. I actually graduated University last Friday! So, it's been a little hectic leading up to that. Anyways, this one is a lot of fluff with some movement in the end. I'm justifying to myself that part of the slow build is giving the characters time to come together on their own, but I'm so unfamiliar with this timescale in writing that I don't know whether I'm moving too fast or too slow. Feedback would be wonderful, and I hope you guys enjoy!

PS - If you couldn't tell, "Singularity Sailor" is this universe's Star Trek, and bears an unsurprising number of similarities.


	7. Stasis Field

Archon's Ship, 1849

It was a phrase Vetra had heard Ryder use before, one of the ones which apparently few other humans used with the same regularity as him, but which he insisted on regardless, one of his many idiosyncrasies: the stomach dropping. It was supposedly a feeling of the ground falling out beneath you, as though the world dropped away from you, one Vetra had never known. Until now.

The voice from Sam had come just moments before the air around them had erupted with a strange orange light, her body lifted and her stomach dropping from inside of her. Every part of her body became weightless, as though she were made of air; but her armor continued to pull her down, the weight useless against whatever force held her aloft. The orange aura around intensified as her hands were shackled together, the energy visible but nonapparent, as though gravity itself were shackling her wrists together. A soft grunt of surprise escaped her lips, just as it did Jaal's, though both were overshadowed by the stunted yell from Ryder as he too was held aloft in the trap.

Immediately she had begun struggling against the restraints, pulling and pushing at her wrists in some desperate hope that freeing her hands would in any way help her to release the rest of the body from the invisible grasp. Her arms ached with effort after only a few seconds, whatever strength she had matched in gentle force by the growing cuffs around her wrists, her body still hanging but decameters above the ground. Still, the desperate struggle continued.

Until he had walked in.

The footsteps were from the darkness initially, heavy and commanding, not born of stealth nor any desire nor need to conceal them from anybody – the tread of one who is obeyed. From the heavy steps was borne the bone and grey face of The Archon, alien eyes staring without compassion from sunken sockets as he approached the group, speaking as he went.

Vetra had watched as the Archon belittled the sector, taunting Ryder and both his and his father's accomplishments. She had felt the disdain in his voice as he reviled the species of this sector and spoke to Ryder as a scientist to a lab rat. Her blood was simmering, kept under control only by the fear of what wrath could await them all deeper in the ship once these energy restraints were replaced by fabric. It was brought to a boil as she watched his hand wrench at Ryder's neck, turning it as one would a prize animal.

It was small consolation to hear the distant explosion, proof that this dictatorial arrogance was founded only on superior numbers, not superiority, but consolation nonetheless. The Archon had stomped away to tend to the rest of his ship as the Salarians ran as fleas on a dog about, causing chaos where they could (much to Vetra's silent approval – If you're going to poke the giant, at least do it in a way that's hard to catch), and soon his steps were faint echoes down a faceless corridor. There was but one problem – They were still hanging.

Vetra looked over to her side, seeing Jaal's face covered in a sheen of sweat as he too struggled against the restraints, his grunts of effort reduced to soft breath as he did what he could to bear the burden silently. Looking ahead, Vetra could see and hear Ryder speaking to Sam, the distress on his face from the entire situation subdued only by a focus forged under fire which she had come to recognize on him. She didn't heed the words too much, paying more attention to her own efforts to escape, until she heard a discussion and idea which alarmed her into attentiveness.

"As you know, my access to your physiology allows me to enhance your vital signals when required. I could also do the opposite."

Vetra's head turned as she heard that, the initial shock of the implication being enough to stop her from reacting truly to the idea as the conversation continued. Ryder, naturally, protested, the small shifting in his body as he tensed up at the idea evidence enough to his dislike of the concept. But, as Vetra listened, she realized, as Ryder, that there weren't any other options.

"Alright, let's do it."

Vetra's mind raced at the thought. It's crazy, yeah. But, SAM's done some amazing things: controlled remnant technology, identified impossible signals, piece together a murder nobody else could have solved. Plus, I mean, the mission is sort of in ruins right now. If we don't get out of here, everybody – from The Salarians to all of The Initiative – will go down. So, it's not like we have much of a choice.

With Adrenaline coursing through her veins Vetra spoke up. "You're Crazy, Ryder". If she were being honest with herself, she'd admit that the idea, beyond all the practicality and utilitarian arguments behind it, rather excited her, in a go-to-a-new-galaxy-and-then-drive-the-Nomad-off-a-cliff kind way.

With little warning Wes' head rolled to the side, his body going limp as the energy binders disappeared from view. The sound he made as he hit the ground was sickening, like a sack of produce being thrown in a market. His head rolled back, green-blue eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling as Vetra watched him lay entirely motionless.

It was odd, for her, seeing him like this. She had seen death first hand before – there was no way to travel The Milky Way as work for hire without confronting it with uncomfortable regularity. But to see a friend – her friend – her best one in all of Andromeda lay on the floor, empty eyes lifelessly looking into infinity… it was unnerving. Her plates crawled and any alarm which she should have felt at the idea came rushing into her mind, a fog of worry and concern drowning out any pretense of excitement as she watched Ryder, subconsciously holding her breath.

She counted.

1… 2… 3…

"Sam!"

Her voice held more worry than she had perhaps intended, even some small part of her still excited at the idea of what she was witnessing. But there was no hiding, through posture nor intonation, just how worried she was as her eyes darted from side to side and her mandibles twitched with how tightly they were held to her face.

She counted again.

1… 2… 3…

Thinking back about it, the idea was slightly horrifying to begin with – Killing Ryder, just to get out of a trap? There had to have been a better way. Some, clever hacking move or something. We didn't have to… suspend him. Kill him. I mean, look! What if he doesn't come back? What if he's gone, the ship no longer has a captain, Andromeda doesn't have a pathfinder, and I don't have a…

With ferocious tenacity Vetra's stomach leaped from the proverbial ground it had hit when the trap was sprung straight to her mouth, the response unexpected as she imagined a Heleus without Ryder… a Tempest without Wes…

Well… yeah. He's a friend. Of course you care about him! Certainly about him dying!

But is he just a friend?

Yes.

Really? Because you don't shudder at the idea of friends being gone from y our life forever.

Maybe I do.

Not like this. Maybe it's time to admit it to yourself, Vetra.

Admit what? I see nothing to be admitted.

You're really going to play this game while he's dead on the floor? Come on. We can move on, find healthy ways to deal with it, maybe even pursue it, just as soon as you admit that you…

Ryder sat up, a gasp of breath breaking the silence as he supported himself on his arms. Vetra breathed an audible sigh of release, and she suspected Jaal did too (though she couldn't tell for how ardently she was watching Rambo for signs of damage).

"That's twice now I've come back from the dead. Can't say the experience is improving."

Relief flooded her veins until she could swear she felt her plates relax around her. She looked at Wes' face, his eyes clearly hiding concern over what just happened, a quip his go-to deflection method after anything he didn't want to talk about. A quick exchange and she and Jaal were back on the ground, running onwards to the Archon's chambers. They ran forwards, fighting and desperately clawing their way through one problem after the next, as they had their entire time in Heleus. But as they did, Vetra's eyes tended to linger on Wes just a few seconds more.

Nexus, 2215

Like most areas on the Nexus, this one didn't have a name. Sitting on the Nexus' version of the Presidium (which also lacked a name, though current candidates were "The Cluster", "The Promenade", "Spacewalk", and most amusingly "Just-Let-Us-Off"; all gotten from a station-wide survey) the skyscraper stood 250 stories tall, but still dwarfed by the massive ceilings of the new spacestation. It was designed to be part of the "Home-like" housing offered by the station, for those who didn't want a window to the rolling void and instead liked views of trees and lakes and future throngs of Andromeda citizens.

One of roughly 250 like it, modeled after the buildings on the Citadel, there was one large difference which set Tower 113 apart: a ballroom. It was designed to be a "Luxury Complex", complete with floor 150 pool, numerous fitness facilities, banks upon banks of holovid booths, and a penthouse/rooftop ballroom. The floors were furnished in luxurious turquoise carpet (a luxury which had gone out of fashion in the space-faring age, and largely confused most Krogan for it being "too soft and squishy, just like humans") with apartments the size of most of the station's "houses". Every wall seemed to have a recessed terminal hidden somewhere, and the entire space was bathed in a soft glowing light the tone of which could be changed with a simple voice command. While it's residences were currently empty, the ballroom was still suitable for celebration. And Celebrate the Nexus did.

Once news had reached the station of Ark Pararchero's rescue the denizens of the station had erupted with celebration, cheering and hugging as another victory came rolling through their desolate cluster, another beacon of hope illuminating a possible future many had forsaken. Few knew of the Archon, or the artifact, but it was enough that, in a few days, the Ark would return. The Tempest had escorted her home, Ryder conferring constantly with the Salarian's new pathfinder to get him oriented to progress made, the demands of the job, etc. Gil had worked practical miracles on the ark's shot ODSY drive, and Vetra had disappeared goodness-only-knows-where, only to return with crates of rare-vintage Salarian Ice Brandy. The ark had docked easily, to much applause from the ops center and indeed the entire station, followed shortly by a hero's welcome for the Tempest as her engines cut and the landing gear sighed under the weight of the elegant spaceship.

She now stood, across the station, draped with decorative blue and white lighting, standing across the synthetic night as a symbol of progress and hope. Music thumped throughout the ballroom as the VIP's of the station celebrated together, looking across to see the rest of the station shrieking their joy on the roofs of other buildings, ballroom or no. The entire "block" was lit up as Earth on "Alliance Day", blue and white light filling the massive space as music echoed through the station.

Ryder's invitation had been automatic, his crew's tendered at his request. All had thrown on the closest thing they had to "dress clothes" – not having originally packed much formal gear for their excursion into the new galaxy. Arriving at the door, a sleekly mirrored elevator rocketed them up to the top floor where a slightly-drunk Kesh greeted them with Krogan abandon (a state which had almost left the pathfinder's crew with a few broken ribs) before they were welcomed into the larger party. It was a mass of some of the most senior members of the Nexus, from work foremen to ops crew to senior scientists huddled in the corners and walls, grabbing conversation where they could. Drinks were flowing from an automatic bar, and a nouveau-pop song was pounding through the hidden speakers. Gil, Liam, and Peebee had immediately ran for the bar, quickly with glasses of whiskey, beer, and Ryncol respectively before disappearing into the throngs; Drack had laughed at Kesh's display of drunkenness before going to join some of the few Krogan left on the station in what looked like a mostly-emptied area. T'Perro joined some of her scientist friends, gracefully skirting the crowds as she grabbed a glass of water to responsibly sip throughout the night, and Vetra seemed to have disappeared altogether.

Ryder, however, was left to socialize with the station's true "elite" (or so Tann considered them) in the closest thing to a private room the area had: a small glass-walled eating area in a far corner of the space, furnished with a small table upon which were set glasses of Turian, Salarian, and Human Champagne. Conversation was made, a mix of political parlance and genuine excitement. All of it made Wes uncomfortable. He fiddled with his Pathfinder jacket, making skirting eye contact and downing Champagne at a semi-alarming rate. Tann regaled them of stories of how Jien Garson had so favored him over others who could have been in line to assume control of the initative, his chest practically swelling as he swung his influence and power around. Kandros' parries were sufficiently potent to silence Tann shortly after he began, but done in such a respectful fashion that he had no way to protest beside frantic gestures and hasty interruptions. Addison seemed to be in a semi-sour mood for the beginning of the evening, but warmed up nicely after two glasses of champagne, quickly diving into complaints of the stresses of colonial affairs, aspects which Kandros scoffed and Tann tried to turn into an advantage to much the same effect as his bragging.

After about an hour and a half of stunted diplomacy, Ryder eventually escaped the room by a hasty excuse, walking over to the bar, ordering a Thessian Sunrise, and then making his way to the window. He stood in front of it, staring out at the station at night, smiling at the frantic yells and thumping music which could be heard across the space, sipping the blue-glowing drink through it's small, curly straw.

"Finally manage to escape?"

Wes looked up, Vetra's bemused face next to him as she stood next to him, looking out with him as she drank from a glass of Turian Ale. Her usual heavy armor had been polished to a sheen, all the scratches and dents from the years of action it had seen buffed out to a mirror polish. Her usual purple half-cape had been exchanged for a swath of white cloth with three blue stripes running vertically down it, a pattern which Struck Ryder as suspiciously close to the curtains in the rooms downstairs.

"Something like that. You don't clean up too bad for a celebration like this."

"You don't look half-bad yourself. New outfit?"

Ryder's outfit was indeed new. Moving away from the blue and white, he had changed the color of the bulk of the jacket to a dark red, a few shades darker than the accented colors on his father's armor. The collar, button line, supporting shoulder bands, and seat of the pants were left plain white, and the side panels colored Initiative blue. Unlike most of his time onboard the Tempest, he wore the shirt buttoned up all the way, and with a white mock-neck sweater, giving the whole outfit a semi-uniform appearance. The overall effect was that of a distinct pathfinder uniform, neither expeditionary red, nor pathfinder blue, nor engineering grey, but rather a combination of both, a uniform of unity.

"Yeah, figured I'd finally change it."

"And why's that?"

"An outpost on Eos, a science research station on Havarl, and one more ark home… I guess I'm finally starting to feel like a pathfinder."

"About damn time. It's how we've all seen you this whole time."

"Flattery isn't going to get you less duty, you know."

"It wasn't."

A pause as they both stared off into the distance. Ryder spoke first, heat burning under his face as he somehow felt awkward at the silence, wanting desperately to talk but finding no such words.

"Nice party, isn't it?"

"Yeah…"

Again, a pause. Again, Ryder tried to start a conversation, the fun-loving atmosphere behind him lost as he felt an odd desperation to keep the conversation going. Had he been less consumed with desperation, he would have noticed the look of deep contemplation plastered to his friend's face.

"Where'd you get off to? You pretty much disappeared as soon as we walked into the door?"

"Huh? Oh, just some friends."

"Nice."

"Yeah."

A third pause. Wes could feel his heartbeat pounding as he found himself struggling to come up with something – anything – to say. He and Vetra had sat in perfectly comfortable silence before, but for some reason he felt compelled to get her to talk, to interact, to enjoy themselves at this party.

"Wes, I have to confess something."

Ryder's face immediately turned to concern as he turned to face her, his eyebrows lifting in curiosity.

"Oh?"

"Let's go somewhere a bit more private."

Ryder gestured at the stairs to the roof, following Vetra as she walked up to the slightly quieter roof area, finding a quiet spot behind some planter-kept bushes squaring off a corner. Leaning against the balcony, Vetra continued.

"I confess: it really bothers me. What you did on the Archon's ship."

The furrows in Wes' brow deepened.

"Dying, you mean?"

"Yes. That."

"But… it didn't seem to bother you in the moment."

Vetra inhaled deeply, bowing her head as her mandibles flared for the exhale. She breathed three more times before continuing, her voice uncertain, as though she were expressing feelings she herself was still testing.

"I know. But that was in the moment, with all the adrenaline, the Archon, the mission. I've been thinking about it since, though, and it bothers me. What you did."

"Do you think I shouldn't have done it?"

"No, no, not at all. SAM was probably right: it was the only way out. I just… what if you hadn't come back? What if SAM hadn't been able to restart your heart? It seemed like an awful lot of luck that brought you back…"

"And luck can run out on you?"

"Well… yeah."

Ryder chuckled dryly, shaking his head as he took a long swig of his drink without the straw, his face smiling thinly but serious concern borne of hours of contemplation sitting behind his eyes.

"I get it, trust me. It… it wasn't pleasant. At all. And for how much SAM can do, bringing me back to death definitely seems like the most impossible; implausible, I guess. But I made it. I'm here. That's enough for me."

"Is it, though?" The consternation in Vetra's voice was palpable in her subharmonics. "Is it enough, Wes? Because it's definitely not enough for me. You almost died. Not almost, you did die, and almost didn't come back."

A pregnant pause. Vetra's breath was heavy, her armor expanding and contracting with her breath. It was an odd reaction for her, being this stressed talking to a friend about this… but it gave her clarity. She continued.

"I'm not saying you shouldn't have done it, Ryder. But you were dead for 5.8 seconds. What if it had been longer? What if you had stayed dead? Without you, the Initiative would fall apart, lose momentum. The Tempest would be grounded again, the crew disbanded."

A pause before she continued.

"None of us want to lose a friend. None of us… I don't… nobody wants to lose you. And on that ship we came uncomfortably close. And yes everybody's being as nonchalant about it as they can, but that's just dodging the issue. But I can't. It's… You're…"

Wes interrupted her softly, his voice full of concern, thoughtfulness. For the mostpart he was soft-spoken, but tripped on his words occasionally, his heart jumping into his throat anytime he seemed to talk about losing Vetra, hastily covered up.

"I know, Vetra. Really. Trust me. I don't, didn't, want to lose you… I mean, all of you. But I made it. Yes, there might have been some luck involved. But what here hasn't? Surviving the Scourge, not getting wiped out by the Kett. Heck, even just having you with me… the whole tempest crew, I mean. It was all pretty much luck. So, yes, I got lucky. And yes, it bothers me too. But we're going places nobody has ever gone before. You don't do that without a little luck on your side."

Vetra's brow plates dropped as her right mandible closed the distance to her jaw, the left one flared. She exhaled forcefully through her nose, turning from Ryder to stare back into the distance, her eyes squinting as she considered the statement. Wes' heart felt as though it was about to beat out of his chest, felt in the pads of his fingers. He didn't know why – while a stressful subject, it had never spiked his heart rate to think about before. Nonetheless, though, he calmed his breathing as best he could and matched Vetra's stare into the mid-distance. Eventually, she spoke.

"I guess you're right."

A dry laugh from Wes as he turned, a rye grin on his face.

"Damn right I am, I'm a pathfinder."

Vetra laughed again, the tension and conclusions being hastily pushed away for favor of the rest of the party.

"What was that about being unsure of yourself before?"

Wes smiled shamelessly, backing out of the area back to the party as he spoke, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Please. Pathfinder's are never unsure! I have no clue what you're talking about."

With that Wes turned around, walking to the Party. The smile which his sarcasm had brought to Vetra's face quickly slipped off, replaced by concern as her eyes followed him through the crowd. They were filled with concern, thought, and something else… something she couldn't quite identify…

Nexus Docking Bay, 0315

The stumble back to the docking bay had been an event to put it mildly. Having danced through the past four hours, Wes had finally found Vetra to head home in a state which was best explained by the five empty drink glasses on the bar. Pathfinder though he may have been, he still partied as thoug he were in college. Truth be told, Vetra wasn't much better, but being the more stable of the two she walked them back to the docking bay, pulling Ryder up as he tried to sleep in every patch of grass and bushes that they found. The party was still rolling in the background, but it was clear that it was time for both of them to head home.

Right before they had made it up the ramp Ryder had declared drunkenly and to the world "Alright, I'm done!" gone more boneless than he had before, and laid down not six feet from his ship. Vetra tried to drag him to the ship, but the addition of dead-weight was too much for her inebriated sense of balance and she was soon sitting next to him, changing gaze from between him and the station, left alone with her own thoughts and internal conversation.

It still bothers you, doesn't it?

What does?

Please. Wes' death.

When did we start calling him Wes? That's awfully casual, isn't it?

He doesn't mind. Seriously, though, it still bothers you.

Well… yeah.

Why?

The single question stopped her in her tracks as she watched the human sleep in a small ball next to her, passed out against the cold deck plating, no regard for the outside world as his heavy breath carried him into a dreamless alcohol induced sleep.

Because… he's a friend.

I think we both know he's more than that.

Fine, a best friend!

More…

No, really! He's my best friend.

Really?

Yes.

Bull.

Why? How is that Bull?

The three hour conversations in his cabin? Teaching him to shoot? Taking him to meet Trivenia?

He's… a special best friend.

Vetra…

Really!

Vetra…

I love him.

The thought struck her like a ton of bricks. While it seemed to come out of nowhere, the more the words hung in her mind, the more sense they made, more natural they felt. Her breath paused, and as if he could hear the conversation, Ryder shifted in his sleep, moaning softly as he moved an arm under his head.

Or, I think I do.

Isn't that enough.

Maybe?

So, you love him.

Maybe.

What are you going to do about it?

Nothing.

Nothing? Really?

Yeah. Nothing. He's the pathfinder. The human pathfinder. I'm just some Turian who knows how to make deals. I've got Sid to take care of. We're best as friends.

But, what would you be if you were better than friends?

I don't know. But I don't want to. We've been down this road before. Gotten hurt. Gotten others hurt. Wes and I work together. We're part of a team on which this whole effort is based. If he and I… don't work. If things go bad, we can't have either of us falling apart. Besides, we have no indication that he feels the same way. And if he doesn't… that's just not a road we want to go down. So, we do nothing. We continue to be his best friend. Continue to work well with him. Pretend we don't love…

Before Vetra could finish her thought, Ryder stirred, mumbling drunkenly as he stood up. With a small laugh Vetra watched him stumble his way onto the Tempest, the automatic doors a blessing from the technological era. She followed him into the ship, watching him as he bumped down the cargo bay and into the hallway, her eyes following him with a new warmth as he collapsed into bed. His snores were concurrent with his head hitting the pillow.

Vetra herself stumbled out of the Pathfinder's cabin, her armor not even coming off as she fell into her bunk. She closed her eyes, but her mind was anything but quiet, like a million bugs buzzing around at her new admission. She thought long and hard about the blackness which her eyelids brought, and eventually her mind was quiet enough that sleep found her. But through her dreams, whenever Wes would appear (as he had for the past few weeks, though her memory would never let her remember) a warmer smile graced her face.

Author's Comments:

Hey guys! I know it's been a while since I posted. While I was intending to post more over the summer, my time has been split in more ways than I was anticipating. I start my new job in July, and it's going to be very intense, so no guarantees on how often I'll be writing. But I promise you: I will keep writing. And, at the very least, I'll finish every story I have right now.

I thought it was strange how the game was so non-chalant about Ryder literally dying on The Archon's Ship, so I wanted to try and delve into that more, essentially head-canoning that it really does bother Vetra, but she was too adrenaline-poisoned and mission-focused to notice in the moment.

Regardless, hope you enjoy! I love likes, and comments are my lifeblood, so leave them if you want! Enjoy!


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